You and I
by BryWrites
Summary: "This time I'm not leaving without you." After a publicized suicide attempt, Jackson Maine divorced Ally. He's disappeared from the spotlight while her newest album has put her back in it. But Ally can't shake that there's something she missed - after all, there's something about just knowing when it's right. (An alternate ending for the film).
1. Always Remember Us This Way

**A/N: **_The following contains spoilers for A Star is Born, obviously. Proceed with caution if you haven't watched the movie. But if you have, perhaps you weren't happy with that ending either. Perhaps you believed that these characters deserved better, that a man trying his best to get better deserved a chance to recover and a girl with a dream and a big heart deserved a happy ending. After hearing Lady Gaga's song You and I, I was compelled to write that better ending._

* * *

**_YOU AND I_**

* * *

Bobby had found him on the ground, unconscious. Bleeding. The stepladder flipped over sideways, the black belt hanging from the garage rafter. The bottle of pills, empty on the ground. It wasn't hard to piece together what had happened. Jack had taken the whole bottle – but he'd wanted to be sure. Hence the belt. But in the process he must've passed out and fallen. His pulse was faint, but it was still there. Years and years of sheltering Jack from the media fallout, Bobby knew this was beyond his ability to handle. This felt different. And it terrified him. He could actually lose him this time. Fumbling for his phone, he called the only number that could help.

* * *

By the time Ally arrived, the paramedics were loading him onto a stretcher. She threw open the door of the car before Ramon even had the chance to put it in park, and ran down the lawn. "Jack!" she shouted. "Jack!"

The whole house was bathed in the glow of red and blue lights, casting a frightening hue onto the face she'd recognize anywhere. Jackson's eyes were closed and the paramedics were shouting instructions at each other. Her heart was pounding so loud in her ears she could hardly think straight. "What happened? Is he okay? What's going on? Jack!"

"Ma'am, we need you to stay back," an EMT warned.

"Don't tell me what to do! That's my _husband_!" she cried. "Jack! Jack can you hear me?" Tears stung at the corners of her eyes. "Jack, _please_, answer me!"

There was a beeping from inside the cab of the ambulance and someone shouted, "We need to get him to hospital, now!" She stood there in a stupor as men and women in white uniforms shut the doors of the cab. As she realized they were getting ready to leave – to leave with him, to _take_Jack with him, she started towards the vehicle – they couldn't take him away, she wasn't going to let them take him away – but a hand wrapped around her wrist and pulled her back.

"Ain't no point in chasing after 'em. They know what they're doing." Bobby's voice was so steady, and his calm sparked her fear into panic.

"What's going on? Bobby, what the hell is happening? What's wrong with Jack?" she demanded.

"There was an accident." Her heart nearly stopped.

"An accident?"

"Jack… tried to hurt himself," Bobby said.

Tried to hurt himself? She knew what that euphemism implied. Ally shook her head. That couldn't be right. That didn't make sense. "No. No, he was doing better. He was doing a lot better. He wouldn't do that." Wouldn't do that _to me_is what she wanted to add.

Bobby set his jaw, and she could tell he was grappling with how much to tell her. "Ally this isn't the first time he tried. When we were kids he – he thought I didn't know but it wasn't hard to put things together when…" He trailed off, and Ally looked past him to the driveway. The door of the truck was open. The light still on in the garage. Something hanging from one of the rafters.

The world seemed to spin and she thought she was going to be sick. What had happened? She should've been there. She shouldn't have left him home alone. She should have driven him to the concert – no, she shouldn't have even gone to the concert. How had she not seen this coming? Wasn't she supposed to know him better than anyone? Jack had been ready to leave the world without even saying goodbye to her and she'd been on some stage miles away playing her songs for complete strangers. Her stomach lurched and the world seemed to spin.

Bobby reached out to steady her. "It's gonna be okay." But he didn't sound too sure.

In a daze he led her over to his truck. It was all she could do to climb in, not even bothering to buckle her seatbelt. He drove her to the hospital in silence. To speak felt like it might jinx whatever luck was holding Jack here on earth. It was all too fragile. For someone so big, so sturdy, Jack was frightfully delicate.

Paparazzi were already waiting outside the doors of the hospital as they approached. Ally stiffened at the sight of them. It was disgusting, the way they flocked to a tragedy like this. Waiting for a shot of her crying. She wasn't going to give them the pleasure. She slipped on a pair of dark sunglasses to hide her eyes. "Here, take this too." Bobby pulled a white cowboy hat from the backseat, and she put it on, pulling the brim down low. "I'll find you inside," he added.

Ally took a deep breath and stepped out of the car. Immediately camera bulbs went off, explosions of light in the darkness. There were voices yelling her name, begging her to look their way, to tell her what had happened.

_"__Ally! Ally! Look here, Ally! Over here! Where's Jackson? Why is he in the hospital? Ally! Ally, this way!"_

She pressed her mouth into a hard line. Refused to give them a single sign of emotion as she forced her way through the crowd and into the lobby of the hospital. Two security guards moved to block the doors as soon as she'd walked past them, and the lights and shouting mercifully faded.

A nurse was waiting at the front desk to guide her upstairs to a private wing where Jackson's room was. She had graying hair and dark eyes. Her nametag read _Trinity._Ally waited until they were in an elevator alone to ask the question that had been lodged in her throat. "How is he?"

Trinity gave her a kind smile. "Don't you worry, baby. He's stable. Gave us all quite a scare there for a minute, but he's gonna be just fine. Right now he's just resting. He's been through a lot tonight."

Ally twisted the wedding ring on her finger. "Um… what exactly happened tonight?"

Trinity raised her eyebrows. "They didn't tell you already?"

The whole night had been a blur she hadn't had a chance to ask anyone on the scene. It had been a struggle to even process what she was seeing. One moment she was singing on stage, the next she was screaming at an ambulance as the one person she loved more than anything was being driven away from her.

"No, I um… his brother was the one who called. He didn't tell me – he just said Jack had tried to, uh, I think he tried to hang himself?" The words sounded strained coming out. To say them out loud was to make it real and this whole thing felt so very unreal. A nightmare she couldn't wake up from.

The elevator pinged and the doors slid open. Trinity stepped out and began walking down the hallway, Ally close behind her. "He didn't quite get to that part. Took the better part of a bottle of oxycodone first. He must've passed out while standing on the chair because he's got a concussion. We'll keep him overnight for monitoring given the head injury, but I think he'll be just fine." She came to a halt in front of the only room on the floor. Through the glass door Jackson was visible, evidently asleep in the hospital bed. A handful of monitors beeped around him, and an oxygen tube rested under his nose. She hadn't seen him look so broken since that night at the Grammys.

"He's been asleep for a while," said Trinity, "but you can go sit with him if you'd like. Might do you both some good."

"Okay. Okay, yeah. I'll do that. Thank you."

"Just press the call light if you need anything. Take care, sugar." The nurse winked and started back towards the elevator. Ally took a deep breath, steeling herself to walk inside. Why did it feel so hard to enter? This was just Jack. Her husband. The man she loved – the man she would've done anything for.

So why didn't he tell her that he was struggling?

No, that wasn't important right now. What mattered was that he was okay. Jack was okay. Ally gently slid the glass door open and stepped inside the room. The sterile smell of bleach and pastel walls seemed so far from their cozy home.

She pulled up one of the chairs close to his bedside, setting Bobby's hat on the table beside a cup of water that had been left there for Jack. If she tried to ignore the oxygen tube, he looked peaceful. Eyes closed, breathing slow and calm. For once he wasn't fighting anything. But god, how hard he'd been fighting everything only hours ago.

She still didn't understand what had changed or why he'd done this. There would be a time to ask questions, but right now she just needed to be there for him. And she needed him to be there for her. They needed each other, they always had. What would make him feel better right now? As if she had to ask. There was one thing he always turned to, and that was music. Really it was only a question of choosing the right song.

Ally started humming the melody softly, hoping he could hear her by the time she started singing the chorus.

_"__So when I'm all choked up and I can't find the words  
every time we say goodbye baby it hurts.  
When the sun goes down  
and the band won't play…"_

Ally closed her eyes, trying to stop the shaking in her voice. This wasn't how she wanted to remember them. She wanted to remember the nights on stage and the afternoons in the backyard and the sleepy mornings laughing together. Not hospital rooms or showers or arguments in the bathroom.

_"__I'll always remember us this way.  
Lovers in the night,  
poets trying to write,  
we don't now how to rhyme  
but, damn, we try.  
But all I really know-" _Ally hesitated, changing the words ever so slightly, "_you're where I feel at home. The part of me that's you…"_

Jack's eyes fluttered open at that moment and the words of the song were traded in for a gasped, "Hi."

At the sound of her voice he groggily turned to her. "I told you I loved that one."

Ally meant to laugh, but it quickly turned into a sob and she clamped one hand over her mouth in a futile attempt to keep from weeping in front of him. Jack's eyebrows furrowed, and he lifted a shaky hand from beneath the blankets. She reached out to grab it, and he held tight as she cried in front of him. There was a comfort in the warmth of his calloused skin, his big hands. Like worn-out leather. Strong. And though she was holding tight to him, he felt miles away, and she wasn't quite sure how to reach him. How to cut through all the tension and all the unspoken things lying between them.

Honesty seemed like a good enough start. "You really scared me," she said. "I can't lose you Jack. I can't be in a world without you in it. I thought I'd lost you and that terrified me."

"Terrified us both." Bobby's voice startled her; she hadn't heard him come into the room. He walked over to stand beside Ally.

"I'm sorry," Jack said. His eyes fell to his lap, the picture of shame. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. And I never meant to hurt you. That's the last thing I'd ever want to do. I love you."

"It's okay baby, it's okay." Ally tried to give him a reassuring smile, squeezing his hand a little tighter. "We're gonna figure this out. I'll cancel the rest of the tour like I talked about and we-"

"No, no no no," Jack said, trying to sit up. "No, Ally, don't, you can't cancel it. Don't cancel the tour." His eyes were wild and panicked. The sudden burst of energy and insistence took her by surprise. He was practically begging. "You have to finish the tour. Swear you will. Fuckin' promise me you'll finish it."

"Okay," she said, confused by the change in his behavior. "But I don't want to leave you right now." To stick to schedule she'd have to leave tomorrow afternoon.

Jack fell back down against the pillows, relieved. "I won't be alone. I know how this works. They're gonna make me go to rehab and counseling and all that shit again. So you can finish the tour while I'm there. It'll be fine."

"He's right," Bobby added. "No point in just sitting around the house waiting for him. Might as well do the damn thing."

"Okay," she repeated, though she hated the sound of it. She'd nearly lost her whole world tonight. "If that's what you want, I'll finish the tour. And I'll come see you as soon as I can, okay?" There were only twelve stops on the European tour. She'd be back in less than three weeks.

But something in Jack had changed. He stared straight ahead at the wall, his smile gone. The passion that had just sparked in him had drained. "Listen, I'm tired," he said suddenly. "I'm really fucking tired."

"We'll give you space to rest," Bobby set. He set a hand on her shoulder as if to wordlessly tell her that it was time to go. Reluctantly she stood from the chair, glancing at her husband, expecting Jack to change his mind and ask her to stay with him. His eyes had already fallen closed. Ally grabbed the hat and sunglasses from the table, but paused when she saw a sheet of paper with doctors names and a pen. Quickly she scribbled, _I love you more than anything! Your Ally, _just so he'd have a something to remind him of her when he woke up. Then she followe Bobby back out into the hallway, leaving Jack alone for the night.

"I should've been there," she said quietly. "I should have known something was wrong. If you hadn't found him Bobby, I… the last thing I did was lie to him." The words came out as a pitiful cry, as she let herself admit how close they'd come to losing Jack. Why had he felt the need to do that? What had changed? Why hadn't he talked to her?

"Listen to me," Bobby said, his voice gruff and commanding. Ally looked up at him, blinking away tears. "It's not your fault. It's just not. It was Ja-" He caught himself before the second syllable and inhaled slowly, as though trying to remember a lesson he'd learned before. "It wasn't anyone's fault. It wasn't anyone's fault." That's what they'd told them when he was in rehab the first time, wasn't it? It wasn't her fault or Bobby's fault or even Jack's fault. This was a disease. This was years of trauma. Nobody was to blame.

Nobody.

"Bobby?"

"Yeah?"

Ally hesitated, all of the possible things she could say playing out before her. She wanted to thank him for going to check on Jack when she called in a panic backstage. She wanted to apologize for the way he'd been treated when he was only trying to help his brother. She wanted to ask him if he was okay and how he was feeling, because hell she knew so little about Bobby other than that he was Jack's brother and their relationship was complicated and when she had needed a way to hide he'd given her his hat. There were a million conversations she could have dived into but their courses stretched so long and so deep for that short hospital corridor so late in the night.

"I – I just want to home, please," she said.

* * *

**ALLY & JACKSON – STEADY AFTER SUICIDE SCARE?**

_After Jackson Maine was hospitalized following his latest drug overdose, which sources say was a suicide attempt, he's back in rehab and his wife, Ally, is back on tour. The "Why Did You Do That?" singer is across the pond on her first world tour while Maine is receiving treatment back in California. The split had fans fearing the power couple was over, but sources close to the pop singer say that she's standing by her man despite his heavily publicized battle with addiction. In addition to her standard tour set list, Ally has begun performing a new song on each stop called, "I'll Never Love Again." According to her, it was written for her by Maine, and she's turned it into a soulful, heart-rending ballad to show the world that she hasn't given up on her marriage. Ally's first tour has been wildly successful, even after her infamous Grammy win earlier this year. Critics have cast doubt on whether her career – or relationship – can withstand Maine's antics in the long-term._

**_READERS WEIGH IN!  
Should Ally stay with Jackson Maine?  
_**_37% say yes, they prove love conquers all  
63% say no, he's dragging her down_

Jack tossed the tabloid magazine into the waiting room recycling bin. Garbage. That's all it was. Parasitic paparazzi trying to turn a profit off of other people's pain. But that photo they had of Ally broke his heart – pulling Bobby's white hat over her eyes so the cameras wouldn't see her cry. That was his fault. He'd done that to her, forced her to take that walk of shame into the hospital. He'd ruined what should have been a happy night for her. Maybe there was some truth in the trash – maybe he _was_dragging her down. That wasn't exactly news to him, Rez had made that pretty fucking clear when he came by the house. But after seeing how devastated she was at the hospital, he just couldn't put her through that again. If he died, he was afraid she'd never recover, and he needed her to be able to shine.

That left him in something of a mess – he needed to get out of her life without destroying her life. Fortunately the abundance of free time in treatment gave him plenty of time to work out a solution. And Ally was an ocean away from him, meaning he could put things into motion without her suspecting something was up.

An ocean away singing the song he wrote for her every night. She wasn't sending a message to the world, no, she was sending a message to _him_. She still loved him more than anything, just like that note she'd written on his bedside table. God that was enough to make him want to forget this whole thing and go running straight into her arms the first chance he got. Tell her over and over again how much he loved her. Let her know that she was his whole world, that he would cross the goddamn ocean for her any day.

But if he truly loved her, he couldn't keep hurting her like this. Ally was a star on the rise. Jack was past his prime. It was time for him to get out of her spotlight.

"Jackson, your brother is here," one of the clinic staff announced.

"Thanks, Jamie," he replied. "Send him on in." Tuesdays were family counseling days, should families choose to participate in them. Jack had little interest in revisiting their less-than cheerful childhood, but Dr. Singh seemed certain it would help make "progress." That was all the doctors talked to him about. Making "progress." Taking all those little baby steps one at a time toward the impossible mountain they called recovery. Anything could progress. Getting through a meal without a drink? Progress. Apologizing to friends from the past? Progress. Yelling and sobbing and crying on the floor? If you were getting in tune with your emotions, it was progress. Sure as hell didn't feel like it though.

Dr. Singh was adamant, and so Jack had relented and agreed to let them invite Bobby to a session of therapy. Maybe it would help. Even if it didn't, it would help him make that progress in another way. Bobby could help him put his plan into motion.

Moments later, his brother appeared through the double doors, giving him a brief nod and wordlessly sitting down in a chair beside him.

"Excited for family therapy?" Jack asked, attempting to sound serious. He couldn't hide a shit-eating grin though.

Bobby snorted. "Let's just get this shit over with."

"You know I think we're pretty damn capable of counseling ourselves – I think the doctor's just there to make sure we don't fuckin' kill each other while we're doing it."

That earned him a laugh from Bobby. "Yeah, you're already in those fucking magazines enough for this. We don't need you getting arrested for murder, too."

Jack chuckled. "Yeah, you're probably right. Listen, about that – I need your help with something." Bobby turned towards him, waiting. "I need you to help me leave Ally."

The older man's eyes narrowed. "Are you out of your fucking mind?"

Jack put up a hand. "Just hear me out. I know this whole thing's put me in the papers, but it's put her in 'em too. And it's just fucking bullshit – saying I'm dragging her down and she's a fool to stay with me. I'm an embarrassment to her as long as she stays with me. And she's never gonna leave me because she's too goddamn good. So I need to do the right thing by her."

"Ally's the best thing in your fucked-up life."

"Don't you think I know that?" Jack gave a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "That's the fucking point. She's the best thing in my life, but I'm not the best thing in hers. Even if she thinks so. I'm ruining her chance to find better things. So I need to take myself out of the equation." A wary look passed over Bobby's face and tilted his head ever so slightly at that phrase. Jack worried that maybe he'd said a little too much. Not wanting to open up that line of questioning, he plowed ahead. "I need to divorce her. Bobby it's the only way I can save her career."

"You realize this is going to kill yours," he responded.

"I know. But maybe… maybe it's time."

Time to let the old ways die. Time to let old stars fade away and new ones take their place.

There was a long silence between them as Bobby leaned back in the plastic chair, staring at the doors before them. A lifetime of music and tours and arguments between the two of them, and here he was proposing they let it all end.

Finally Bobby spoke. "You really love her, huh."

"More than my own life, I do. So – you'll help me?"

At that moment, Dr. Singh stepped through the doors, a clipboard in hand and a practiced smile on his face. "You two ready?"

Bobby looked right at Jack. "Yeah. Okay."

* * *

Eleven of the twelve tour stops, completed. Last night, she'd played to a sold out crowd at Le Zénith in Paris. She'd sang a shorter rendition of "La Vie En Rose" for them, which made the gathered fans go wild.

"_Merci, merci, _Paris," she'd said, in the shaky French she'd practiced before the concert. "_Je vous aime. Et maintenant, ma derniere chanson."_

The crowd cheered and Ally had closed her eyes. Let herself fall back through time and space to that warm day in their backyard when she'd gone flying down the zipline and Jack had caught her in his arms and they'd both laughed so hard. To the evening in the bubble bath when she'd made over his face and put on the thin Edith Piaf-like eyebrows he'd begged her to let him try. Those little moments of love. She conjured them up for herself, and hoped that somehow Jack could hear her, somehow, each time she sang for him.

The lights above the stage had turned golden and she sang slowly, sweetly.

_"__Wish I could, could've said goodbye…"_

Ally poured every piece of her heart into the song, as though singing it every night would let him feel how deeply she loved him. It was like some sort of spell, and if she continued to sing it, maybe it would protect him until she returned to him.

Ally had finished the song on one last, long note, and the room had erupted in applause. Lights from cameras and cell phones flashed so bright, a million blinding stars. The cheers were deafening. She had raised her hands to the crowd, taken several bows, smiling at the audience gathered there for her –

And then she was on a plane in silence, all by herself, flying over a dark ocean to get back home. She had a week off before the finale concert in London and had begged Rez to let her go see Jack in rehab. Singing to him each night wasn't enough. She needed to see him – to touch him and hold him and know he was okay. They still hadn't talked about what happened that night, and she wanted to understand what had hurt him so deeply. After landing in LA, she got to the house late in the morning to unpack some of her things. Charlie was ecstatic to see her and she chased him around the house, laughing as they played. He'd been alone for weeks, without her or Jack. Luckily Ramon had been willing to dogsit for them, but it was clear to see Charlie missed his parents. Ally cuddled up close to him on the couch.

"It's okay baby," she said. "Daddy will be home soon." Then they'd be back together again – their little ragtag family, in the home they'd built.

After eating a quick breakfast and having refilled Charlie's water bowl, Ally dialed the number of the treatment center. After a few rings, a warm voice on the other end announced, "Hillside Recovery Center, Linda speaking."

"Hi Linda," Ally said, trying to mimic her friendly tone. "I'm calling to set up a visit with a patient there."

"Okay, can I have the name and patient number of the individual?"

"Um, Jackson Maine? I think the number is 2559."

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Linda. "But Mr. Maine isn't schedule to have any visitors for the next week."

Ally gripped the phone a little tighter. "That can't be right."

"I'm afraid that's what is says in the doctor's notes."

"Well, I'm his wife. I need to see him – and I know he wants to see me."

"I'm sorry Mrs. Maine, but those are the instructions I have."

"Can you put his doctor on?"

Linda's voice had lost the warmth it had. "I'm sorry, Dr. Singh is busy at the moment."

Ally wasn't one to throw a superstar-sized tantrum, but she was ready to say whatever it took to get time with Jackson. "Do you know who I am? Who Jack is? I want to speak to Dr. Singh right now."

"I'm sorry, but there are no exceptions. We'll call you when there's an update. Have a good day, Mrs. Maine.'

"Please, wait, I just need to speak to my husband!" she cried. But the line had already gone dead on the other end. Ally tossed the phone onto the counter, as if the device itself was responsible for her frustration. What was that supposed to mean, no visitors this week? This was the only week she had.

Ally was about to pick up the forsaken phone to call Bobby when there was a knock at the door. When she answered it, she found herself face to face with the older Maine brother.

"Bobby, oh thank God! I was just about to call you – I was trying to get ahold of Jack but Hillside is saying he's not accepting visitors and-"

"Whoa, slow down there sister. Take a breath," Bobby encouraged, stepping into the living room.

"Sorry," she said. "It's good to see you."

"How's the tour been? They treating you ok in Europe?"

"Oh, yeah, it's been great. A total whirlwind, but I mean it's been a real dream come true." The response made her cringe. It was so easy to fall into the habit of repeating press sound bytes to the people in her life. It's what she said to every reporter, that it was all wonderful, just a dream, a wonderful dream. But her dream had been to do this all with Jack by her side. "But how's Jack doing? They won't let me talk to him. What's going on?"

Bobby ran a hand over his beard. "He's… he's good. He's trying to get better. But he's, uh, I think he's had a lot of time to think and – shit, this isn't easy to explain. He asked me to do something for him."

Ally frowned, leaning against the wall. "What do you mean? What did he want?"

Reaching deep into his jacket pocket, Bobby withdrew an envelope and passed it to her. Ally opened it, and unfolded the stack of papers inside.

_Superior Court of California  
Petition for Dissolution of Marriage_

_Petitioner: Jackson Maine  
Respondent: Ally Maine (née: Campana)_

Ally looked up. "What the hell is this?" She stared at Bobby who wore a perfect poker face, betraying nothing. "What the _hell _is this shit? Tell me!" she shouted.

"Jack has asked for a divorce. He's already filed the paperwork and -"

"_Divorce? _He's asking for a divorce? What the fuck is this about?"

Bobby didn't even flinch. "He said it's over, sweetheart. He can't do it anymore."

His calm was infuriating, just as it had been that night in front of the garage. "You're lying!" she screamed. "You lying motherfucker! Tell me the truth! Tell me the truth!" But he just stared straight at her, his silence saying this was all the truth he had to offer. Was this why Jack wasn't taking visitors? Why this why she couldn't reach him?

"I'm sorry, Ally," he said. A hint of pity in that deep drawl. That pity made bile rise in her throat and she raised a hand, ready to reach across and slap him for delivering such news to her but as she pulled her arm back Bobby turned his cheek, ready to take it.

What the fuck was she doing? She was losing it. Goddammit what was happening to her? Ally's hand curled into a fist and she pressed her knuckles over her mouth to try and hide her quivering lip.

"Get the fuck out of my house," she whispered. When he didn't move, she yelled, "I said, get _out!_" Taking one last look at her, Bobby nodded and walked out the front door, leaving her alone once more. Just Ally and Charlie and an envelope that sealed a future she thought was wide open.

She just didn't understand it. The stack of paper illuminated very little. Flipping through condescending legal paragraphs, she paused when she saw a sheet of paper covered in Jack's messy scrawl.

_Ally,_

That greeting alone gave her goosebumps. No _dearest, _or _darling _or _sweetheart, _or _dear_. Just her name.

_I'm sorry I can't give you these in person. And I'm sorry to do it so suddenly, but I just couldn't wait anymore. I couldn't keep living this lie. You were right when you said that things got bad when we were together. Maybe I mistook the feeling of being high for the feeling of falling in love. Maybe I was searching for anything to fill the empty spaces in my life. But now that I'm sober, really sober, I realize that what I thought we had just isn't there anymore. When I look at you, I just don't feel anything. Nothing that's real. I'm sorry, Ally. I can't live a life tied down to someone. That's just not me. I thought maybe it could be. I was wrong. And now, I need to make things right by letting you go. I've made up my mind. I only ask that you respect my decision._

\- _Jack_

Ally set the papers down on the counter, her head spinning. Was none of this real? Moments played like a movie in her head. Jack urging her onto the stage. His hand on her chest in a dim hotel room. Laughing on the tour bus. Writing in a diner. The wind on the back of his motorcycle, Charlie in the yard, a guitar string ring, lights, showers, piano music. Was it all a lie? Some drug-induced trip he'd fallen into, a dream she'd let herself believe in? It had all been too good to be true, after all. That some superstar could waltz into a drag bar and fall in love with her.

He'd traced her nose and called her beautiful. Now he said he felt nothing at all.

How could he? How could he do this?

The scream building in her chest finally came out as a strangled shriek and she ran at the wall, punching the first thing her fist made contact with. Jack's glass-framed poster shattered at her touch. She didn't even feel the sting. It was exhilarating. It was freeing.

It wasn't enough.

With another scream, she grabbed the frame off the wall and tossed it onto the floor, the sound of breaking class like a distorted piano chord. She reached for the next one, and the next one – smashing and shattering and throwing them onto the floor, glass and paper falling around her as she raged a warpath through their hallway until the walls were bare. Only then did she sink onto the floor and dissolve into sobs.

Twenty-four hours ago she'd been feeling so happy – singing in Paris, knowing that she'd soon be able to hold Jack in her arms. Believing that with their love, they could survive anything. She had been Ally Maine, his Ally, his wife.

Now she was alone in their house, all of her dreams on the floor with nobody to hold her and nothing to ease the pain tearing her heart in two.


	2. Million Reasons

The day he knew Ally was headed to London he was discharged from rehab. Bobby went over that morning and collected the few items he'd asked for – a handful of clothing, a journal, his guitar. One of Charlie's old collars. His black hat.

Bobby had taken nearly three hours to return.

"What the hell took you so long?" Jack asked him.

"Cleaning up glass. Looks like Ally destroyed all your framed posters," Bobby had replied. Shit. Was he doing the right thing? He'd really hurt her this time. But it was the only way to save her from his demons.

He had to let Ally go.

That very day, he and Bobby packed up their California life and moved south. It didn't take long, Bobby had been preparing for it for the past month, all according to Jack's instructions. They'd move to Phoenix together, to a small house outside of the city on a big plot of land. Close enough to other houses that they wouldn't have to worry about any crazy fans or stalkers. Bobby would travel as needed, keeping up his gig as Willie's manager. And Jack, well, he'd figure it out.

Performing was out. The moment the news broke, he was sure he'd be crucified by the media and by both of their fans. It was despicable. Ally stands by him after he ruins her Grammys moment, after he goes to rehab, and after he overdoses? Then _he _divorces _her_? They were going to hate him. Hell, he hated himself. He kept picturing Ally sitting on the floor of their home surrounded by shattered glass. Probably with cuts and bruises on her knuckles and he wanted more than anything to go back through time and walk out of their kitchen with a bag of frozen peas he could wrap around her hand to help it heal. He wanted to turn the car around, go find her, run straight into her arms and holder tighter than he ever had before, promise her that he loved her more than anything and that she hadn't done anything wrong. God she was probably trying to figure out what the fuck she'd done to deserve this but she had been perfect. She deserved so much better, that was the problem.

Why did she have to fall in love with him in the first place? Maybe it was his fault for falling for her first. He thought he could have something so beautiful in his life, and somehow believed he wouldn't entirely fuck it up. What a mistake that had been.

Jack stared out the window of the truck at the passing landscape. Flat deserts, clear sky, dry ground. He'd driven this way with her once, her arms fastened tight around his waist. He hoped Charlie would cuddle with her. She didn't need to be alone right now. Maybe Ramon would come over. Or Lorenzo. Or just fucking anybody. Surely there was someone there for her. _Fuck, _he thought. _Please don't let her be alone right now. Somebody, anybody, stay with her. Don't let her go through this alone._ What a fucking mess. What a complete fucking mess he'd made.

Had she cried when she saw those papers? What had she thought when she read that letter? He had tried to choose only the words that would hit the hardest. He'd wanted to tell her she was ugly, knowing that would keep her from reaching out to him – because if she came to find him, he wouldn't be able to lie to her. She was like kryptonite, one look from her and he'd been sobbing on his knees telling her how sorry he was. But "when I look at you I just don't feel anything" was as close as he could get. Turns out he could only hurt her like that when he was shit-faced. Jack just couldn't bring himself to tear her apart when sober. Because the truth was that she was stunning. Beautiful. He looked at her and every single argument with his brother, every lonely drunken night with his old man, every high and every come-down and every heavy trauma all felt worth it. He'd live it all a thousand times just to wake up to sunlight falling on the curve of her nose in the morning. Or to see the little crinkles in the corner of her eyes when she smiled.

How he loved to be the cause of that smile.

And now he was the cause of her pain.

Shit, he wanted a drink. He needed anything to help him forget what he'd done. If he was lucky he could find oblivion at the bottom of the bottle. Drink so deep he'd forget he ever met her to begin with. Then maybe he could keep pretending the only person he'd ever hurt was himself.

Instead he was horribly sober, trapped in a car with the brother he'd pained plenty of times over. The two of them eating stale gas station sandwiches as though Jack hadn't singlehandedly uprooted their lives. Bobby was cleaning up his mess once more.

Sometimes Jack was sure music was the only thing that redeemed him. It was all he was good at. The only time he was selfless was when he was playing to a crowd, giving them everything he had while up on stage.

Maybe he could still keep music in his life. His one virtue. He couldn't teach lessons though, no parent in their right mind would trust him. Couldn't perform. Being a manager was out, he could hardly manage himself.

"How's the tinnitus?" Bobby asked, as they drove through the valley. Small tall to pierce the silence. It was strange considering only days before they'd been saying everything in therapy sessions.

"It's not worse," Jack replied. "Just not better. I never get any fucking silence. There's always the ringing."

Bobby chuckled. "Well, if you're looking for quiet this is the right place. Fucking empty desert for miles." He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, never taking his eyes off the road. "Listen the place, it's a bit of a fixer-upper. I was thinkin' maybe it'd give you something to do until you get back on your feet. Nothin' fancy. Just some walls to repaint, a few structural things to fix. I, uh, I was thinking maybe we'd get a pool built. You – you said you liked swimming, right?"

It was so awkward for them to be sincere. His first instinct was to push back against the warmth Bobby was offering, but he tried to lean into it. He wasn't quite ready to practice the ninth of the Twelve Steps, make amends, but letting these moments be was a good start.

"Yeah, I like swimming. That'd be real nice… thanks, Bobby."

Somewhere around Plomosa, it came to him. Jack remembered the bar he'd drunkenly stumbled into that night, Bleu Bleu, where Ally had been singing. The world always needed more spaces to hear good music. Maybe he could give people a place like that, create a platform where people with messages that meant more than his could finally be heard. Some kind of venue where folks could just gather and take in the beauty of another person's words. A space where those 12 notes could be arranged in an infinite number of ways.

He'd been so awestruck when he'd first heard her arrange them.

Even this idea was tied to her. She'd changed him. She was the reason he was still alive. Jack felt the bitter sting of saltwater in his eyes and he forced himself to keep his eyes fixed on the window so Bobby wouldn't notice. It fucking broke his heart to break hers. He had a million reasons to get out of that truck and run back to her. Just head for the hills and fall down at her feet and beg for her forgiveness. He'd promise her the whole damn world.

But despite those million reasons, he had one reason to stay away, and that was all that mattered. He loved Ally. And loving her meant accepting that he just wasn't good for her anymore.

* * *

** hollywoodgossip: **Say it ain't so! Power couple Jackson Maine & Ally allegedly split. After suicide attempt & rehab round 2, Ally stood by her hubby but now Jackson wants a divorce! Shocking! Sound off in the replies! #WellNeverLoveAgain #JallySplit

**21K retweets | 50K favorites**

_-REPLIES-_**  
bstreis76: **WTF? Jackson Maine is despicable! So heartbroken for ** allyofficial**. She deserves better.  
** phillipsky: **HE is divorcing HER? Dude she's ALLY. Ur a washed-up alcoholic. Like ur not gonna do better? Like smh  
** swanronson: **Literally so shocked. First he pulls the worst awards stunt since Kanye and now this? He only cares about himself #JacksonMaineIsCancelled  
** mainmainefan: **omg NOOOO not Jally I'm gonna cry MY PARENTS CAN'T BREAK UP fdskfjflkdjfllfas THEY WRE PERFECT! #JallySplit #IllNeverLoveAgain  
** inlalalandxoxo: **Jackson Maine can literally go fuck himself lol this is disgusting wow I hate men  
** ally_fan_acct: **omg this sucks ** allyofficial** is the London show still gonna happen? #Ally #Jally #JallySplit #WeLoveYouAlly  
** asiblovrr: **so sorry for u ** allyofficial **we love u!  
** kimchii: **lmaoooo good ** allyofficial** was too good for him anyways  
** krismascard:** ** allyofficial **  
** healmeplzally: allyofficial  
frthelolz: allyofficial  
allyobsessed: allyofficial**

* * *

Despite her team's best efforts to keep things under wraps, the news broke the morning of the London concert. Probably some scumbag lawyer or secretary looing to make a quick dollar had sold the information to the press. It was all over celebrity gossip sites, even trending on Twitter. #JallySplit, #IllNeverLoveAgain and #JacksonMaineisOverParty were in the top tags. She muted all her accounts, turned off email notifications, and wasn't even responding to text messages. Too many casual acquaintances texting her demanding to know what had happened or offering insincere messages of pity. Their support was nowhere to be found when Jackson was struggling, but now everybody wanted in on the personal tragedy that was her divorce.

Ally had no interest in letting them in. Honestly she wanted nothing more than to lock herself in her bedroom at her dad's house and cry until the saltwater stung her eyes and she made her voice hoarse from sobbing. But tonight she was in a strange city surrounded by backup singers and stage managers, most of whom hardly knew her. Ramon was there, but she'd asked him to give her space. She wasn't ready to be coddled or asked to talk about it because doing so would acknowledge it was real. All she needed to do was finish this concert and go home. No more paparazzi chasing her down in the streets to demand details of her love life. No more radio sound bytes bemoaning their split.

For the first time in a year, Ally craved silence.

Rez sat beside her in the car on the way to the Brixton.

"It's just one performance, Ally," he said. She fiddled with the rings on her fingers. "You'll feel better when you're up there singing. All the fans cheering for you. They're gonna love you."

How the hell could Rez know what she was feeling right now? He'd never been through anything like this. He had no fucking clue.

"Maybe it'll help forget for just a little bit," he suggested.

Ally gave him her best side-eye. "How could I forget when almost all of the songs I'm performing are about him?" There were a few about other experiences – friendship and art and chasing a dream. But there was no denying that though the album bore her name, its songs were full of Jack.

And the last song on the set list? "I'll Never Love Again."

She just didn't know how she could sing it. How had Jack even written it for her? When she read the words over again, the lyrics he'd written in her notebook, it just didn't make sense. How could Jack write something so beautiful for her if he didn't love her? It was a love song, plain and simple. But then he turned around and told her it was all a lie. What part was she supposed to believe?

Rez squeezed her shoulder. "You're gonna be fine, Ally. All stars go through this at some point. They perform even though they've been broken up with or they're ill or a loved one has died. Lea Michele starred in _Glee_ despite her boyfriend's death. Halsey went on stage immediately following a miscarriage. This is the business, Ally. The show must go on."

His speech did nothing to ease her mind. Why was it that artists had no other option? Being forced to perform under the stress of loss or tragedy shouldn't have been the norm in the industry. No wonder so many stars burned out too soon. They were expected to give away every part of themselves to the public, as though it were owed. Managers eager for a profit, fans desperate for a brush with fame, photographers looking to leak a story. How many people had snapped photos of her and Jackson when they went out together? Of course so many celebrities struggled with addiction. The pressure was crushing. Not to mention isolating.

Everyone wanted to share in what "Ally" had, but few wanted to stick around when she was just Ally Campana, alone and hurting.

The makeup and hair artists were more chattery than usual as they prepped her backstage. She was almost certain Rez had instructed them to do whatever it took to get her mind off of the divorce filing. Off of Jack. They straightened her hair and brushed glittery eyeshadow over her lids as she stared at her reflection in the mirror.

Who was this person? This woman with carrot-orange hair and the brightly colored makeup? She was polished and perfect, not a hair out of place. With the right lipstick, you could imagine she'd never known heartbreak. Waterproof, sweatproof mascara that could fool a crowd into believing she'd never had a real reason to cry. It was all so fake. But the crowd in the theater was real and cheering her name – it was time for the singer to become the actress and play the part of the stoic celebrity, pushing on past her own tragedy.

She wasn't sure she believed in God or anything like that. But if there was a higher power, now was the time to beg for mercy. _If you're real – just please let me get through this. Show me how to get through this._

Ally walked on stage to the sound of thunder, hands clapping and feet stomping. The shouting was so loud, the lights so bright. What did any of this mean if the person she loved didn't love her back?

No, she couldn't afford to think like that. This was everything she'd ever dreamed of. It was what she'd worked for her whole life. Ramon was cheering for her. Her father was proud of her. Her songs were heard around the world.

This meant everything. At least, that's what she told herself.

And then the opening notes of "Why Did You Do That?" were playing and she fell right into her role. Rez was right, to an extent. In that moment she could just pretend that nothing else existed. There was only her and the music, 12 notes within an octave to move between. The beat and the melody could take her far away from what she felt. While she was singing, space and time ceased to exist. There was nothing before this and nothing after this. Only the now, only that note and that line and that perfect pitch.

In a blur she made her way through the set, keeping her mind focused on the music so that the world beyond the concert hall stayed at bay. To let any other thoughts creep in would be to open the floodgate.

Finally, it was time for the finale. Ally walked up to the edge of the stage, setting the microphone she'd been carrying into the stand above the piano. Some nights on tour she'd performed it standing up, with a member of the band accompanying her on piano, but tonight she knew she needed the support of the instrument.

"Thank you London," she said. "It's been a dream. This is the last stop on my first tour and I couldn't have asked for a better crowd." A wave of hollers and happy shouts came from the audience. "I've got just one last song to sing for you, but I'd like to ask for your help – I think it sounds better with more than one voice. If you wouldn't mind… I'm sure you know the words."

Her fingers found the keys and she began playing, slowly. A respectful hush fell over the crowd as she leaned into the microphone and began to sing.

_"Don't wanna feel another touch, don't wanna start another fire." _She tried to keep her voice as steady as possible. Just one song. Less than five minutes. She could do this. Halfway through the first verse, she could hear the voices of the crowd rising up to join her. Good. If she could hear them than this song was more than her song. It wasn't just a ballad he'd written her, it was a message that meant something to each of those voices. She could sing it to them.

It was all going fine until she hit the bridge. All those lines about not wanting anyone else, not wanting to even know the feeling of love with someone else. _"I don't wanna give somebody else the better part of me. I would rather wait for you," _she sang, her voice beginning to shake. Hadn't she given him every piece of herself? Once upon a time Ally had believed he'd given her everything, too. Small moments of Jackson Maine that nobody else got to see. But there was no doubt that they brought out the worst in each other too.

She would have taken it though. Ally would have accepted every great and terrible moment because that's what they'd sworn together. For better or for worse. She loved all of him. She wanted all of him, and now he was gone. Jack was gone. He didn't want her anymore.

_"Don't let another day begin…"_ Ally could feel the tears coming and she couldn't do anything to stop them._ "W-won't even let the sunlight… in."_ At the change in her tone the audience's singing had faltered. They knew something was wrong. Ally stopped playing. The notes just wouldn't come. She was so furious with him for hurting her but in that moment she knew she'd give anything to see him one more time. Her Jack. She loved him. She really loved him. She'd never loved anyone that way and it was true – she never wanted to love anyone like that ever again.

How could he do this to her? How could he destroy everything they'd shared with a single letter? She stared down at the piano keys in horror. It was over. It was really over. She was never going to hold him again. He was never going to kiss her again. They were never going to roll around in the backyard with Charlie together. And she would never wake up to his finger tracing her nose as he whispered an apology, saying she was just too beautiful and he couldn't help it. He was never going to ask to take another look at her.

A desperate gasp escaped her throat, and its echo alerted her to sudden silence of the crowd. Ally immediately came to. The show had to go on. And it needed to go on now, before someone had to step in if she wanted to stay out of the news._  
"Oh I'll never love again  
Never love again  
Never love again," _she sang, finding the words to finish the song. One last, long breath. Her fingers on the keys once more to close it out. _"Oh I'll never love again." _

There was single moment of baited breath after she stopped playing before the crowd erupted into applause. She bowed and bowed, following all the right steps as though on autopilot. Gesture to the band. Gesture to the crew. Blow kisses. Bow again. Collect a few of the flowers and cards thrown on stage. And then make a quick getaway. The cheers faded into white noise. The lights dimmed. It was done.

Rez found her twenty minutes later sobbing in the green room, curled up on the couch. "You nearly lost it up there," he remarked, skipping any small talk or attempts at being comforting.

Ally scoffed. "I _did_ lose it up there. What the hell did you expect? The song hurt, Rez."

He sighed, stepping inside the room and shutting the door behind him. "Listen, I know you're upset about the divorce but – and I mean this in the nicest way possible – I think you're getting too worked up about Jackson."

"What is that supposed to mean?" she snapped, sitting up straight. Ally wished that she had a coat to pull on on over her tour clothes. It was so hard to be taken seriously in a velvet jumpsuit.

Rez crossed his arms, and sighed, making it seem as though the conversation itself was an inconvenience to him. "I'm just saying that… come on, let's be honest here. Jack wasn't good for your image. He wasn't good for _you_, as a person. Maybe it's for the best that you're separating."

"You might be my manager, but you have no idea what's best for me!" she said, her voice rising. "I know what's best for me!"

"Well maybe Jack thinks this is what's best for you!" Rez retorted. "Divorcing you is the only good thing he's ever done for you. I mean you were considering dropping the Europe leg! His stunt the night at you played at the forum allowed you to finish the tour at least!"

Ally's mouth fell open. "How dare you! He was my husband!"

"He was an embarrassment!"

"Don't you _ever_ talk about him like-"

"He knew it too! We talked about it! Jack knew he was ruining your career, I told him he was and he didn't care! Because he didn't care about you! And look, now that you're more famous than him he doesn't want to be with you! It was all just a game to him!"

Ally jumped up from the couch seething. "You told him he was an embarrassment?"

Rez met her gaze, his jaw set. "I did. And I don't regret it."

"Leave," Ally said.

"What?"

"Leave! Get out of this room, get out of my way, and get out of my life!" she shouted.

Rez laughed. "Are you trying to fire me?"

She stormed up to him, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. She may have been only 5'2" but she knew how to intimidate someone. Leaning far into his personal space she glared up at him. "I'm not trying to, I _am_. I don't care if he's the scum of the earth. I don't care if he's an embarrassment. You had no right to say that to him. No right at all. You're supposed to manage my career, not my fucking life. It's _my _life." She gestured to the door. "Now get out of it."

His eyes flickered over her face, waiting for some sign she was going to change her mind. Ally kept her expression steeled, not even daring to blink. Finally he shook his head, grabbed his bag, and left. The door slammed shut behind him. And then she was right back where she'd started – alone.


	3. Perfect Illusion

The house was small. White adobe with a red clay roof, near Encanto. It was at the end of a private drive with shrubs and skinny trees in the yard. A tall fence to hide them from prying eyes. There were two levels but the upstairs was only small enough for a bedroom and a bathroom. Bobby made the executive decision to use it for storage. He and Jack would both live downstairs, in bedrooms next to each other and sharing a bathroom. Though Bobby didn't say it, Jack knew it was to keep an eye on him. No way he could hide pills or bottles in bathroom they both used. It was sparsely furnished, but what they had looked nice. Silk sheets. A sturdy kitchen table. An abstract painting of a sunset that Bobby had insisted on so that the house didn't look like an empty bachelor pad. And a beautiful dark wood piano Jack had purchased from a music store in Phoenix while wearing a fully zipped hoodie and the only pair of sweatpants he owned. When the cashier stared a little too long into his mirrored sunglasses, trying to discern who he was, he slipped the middle-aged woman a $100 bill and thanked her for being discrete. Never was he one to care who took his photo or what the magazines were saying about him, but this wasn't about him. It was about Ally, and he didn't want her to know where he was just yet. She needed a clean break, and for the media to focus its attention on her success and not his whereabouts.

The brothers settled into a quiet routine. Bobby went to meetings with Willie. Jack went to AA meetings. Jack passed the time around the house relearning how to properly cook and playing old pieces on the new piano. They made plans for a pool to be built. In that way, they built a life again. Though it felt like limbo, it was still living. Time moved forward, not caring whether or not he wanted it to.

* * *

Empty drawers in their dresser. Empty rooms in their house. An empty space in her heart. The days themselves felt empty, meaningless. With him, her world had been filled with music. Now the silence reverberated in her bones. There was no one to sing to and no one to sing with. Charlie would nudge her hand with a wet nose as she lay on the couch staring up into space, the way she was now. More often than not she spent her days drifting aimlessly through the rooms – cooking meals, watching reruns of sitcoms or old movies, reading magazines she knew wouldn't mention her. There were stacks of _National Geographic_, _Home and Garden, _and _Popular Science_ piled up on the coffee table.

The magazines, like almost everything these days, was brought to her by either Lorenzo or Ramon. Ever since the news broke, she'd been hounded by paparazzi. What parasites. Scores of them were waiting outside the airport for her when she landed back in the States, like a herd of wild animals, all flocking for a photo of her. A single image of Ally, the abandoned superstar. The tragic romantic who was tossed away at the height of her career. A woman in sorrow.

She wasn't about to give them that.

Since that day she'd been hiding out in the house for over a month, waiting for the media frenzy to die down. Aimlessly passing the time alone.

She heard her father's car pull up in the driveway, followed by the sound of a slamming door and his footsteps towards the front door. He paused before entering, and she could hear him talking to someone on the phone through the open window.

"And the bastard ups and disappears… No, nobody knows where he is… You know, I hope he is! He can be in hell for all I care, after what he did to her." The anger was evident in Lorenzo's voice. "I hate that man. I never should've trusted him with Ally."

Hate.

It would've been easier to hate him. To wish he were dead. She was upset with him. Angry with him. Wished that he had never walked into the bar that night. Somehow, she just couldn't bring herself to hate him. She'd always loved him too much for that.

* * *

The seasons changed. The air grew colder. Sometimes Jack would wake up in the middle of the night and half-awake reach across the sheets, expecting his hand to land on warm skin. He grasped only air. Rolling over his heart would skip a beat at the realization that his bed was empty, and the briefest hint of worry would wash over him before he startled into consciousness and remembered where he was – and that Ally hadn't been there to begin with. The bed was empty. And every now and then, that moment of epiphany would be enough to bring him to tears.

* * *

Her fingers moved slowly over the keys of the piano, like dancers weighed down, moving with heavy and uncertain steps. They found a melody though, a pattern she could feel in her chest.

Ramon poked his head around the corner. "What's that?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said quickly.

He tilted his head, giving her a well-practiced side-eye. "It doesn't _sound_ like nothing." He walked over to the piano, leaning against it and spreading his arms over the top. "I don't see any sheet music so I know that's coming from your heart. Which means you've got a song in your head. So what is it?"

Ally shook her head. "It's nothing, really." It wasn't nothing but it wasn't something she was sure she wanted to share. There were times when the grief and the anger were felt so deeply that she felt she might drown in the depths of her own emotions. The only way she knew to stay afloat was to turn those feelings into music.

Ramon elbowed him. "Come on. Play it for me, please? It's been so long since you wrote anything." His playful teasing suddenly turned earnest, and when she looked at him there was a concern in his eyes that surprised her. "I know you need to get this out."

As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. She needed a release from the sorrow. And of course, she did have words. Her fingers found the keys once more and she closed her eyes, trying to forget that Ramon was listening. Falling into the pattern she felt comfortable with, Ally began to sing the words that had already been playing in her mind.

"_I don't need eyes to see, I felt you touching me,  
High like amphetamine, maybe you're just a dream  
That's what it means to crush, now that I'm waking up,  
I still feel the blow but at least now I know," _she sang. Her voice was soft, testing the limits and the feel of the lyrics, but she imagined belting it at the top of her lungs, screaming until the part of her that felt so shattered didn't hurt anymore.

"And then, um, I think the chorus is something like…" Ally changed up the pattern of the notes. _"It wasn't love, it wasn't love. It was a perfect illusion."_ She shrugged, letting her hands fall away from the piano. "I don't really know where it goes from there."

Ramon was grinning at her. "What is it?" she asked, shying away from his eager gaze.

"It's just – you said there's a chorus. So it's not nothing. You're writing a song. An actual song."

"I guess," she said. But it had been a while, and she knew it. Music had always been her first love. It was the only way she knew how to really express herself. But somewhere along the way it had become _their_ thing, and after the divorce she had stayed away from it. Then the music had started coming back to her. Bits and pieces of a song in her mind until she just couldn't resist. And for the first time in almost a year, music felt like _hers_ again.

Ramon let out a victorious whoop, playfully punching her shoulder. "That's my girl! She's back, baby!"

* * *

Bobby thought he was crazy when he proposed the idea. "A bar? Are you outta your fuckin' mind?"

"Hear me out," Jack said. "It's the best space for musicians to perform. It just is – because people will come for the drinks and the chance to dance and stay for the sound they fall in love with. You can't have live music at a restaurant like that. People are too busy thinking about whatever shit they're eating to really listen. I want the music to be _heard_, what they're saying needs to be heard."

"You want to be around alcohol all the time? You're nowhere near ready for that."

"I'm going to meetings every damn week, what more do you want?" Jack asked. "I know myself. And I know that in the real world there's gonna be alcohol. There's gonna be drugs. I need to know that I'm strong enough to handle being around it without going fucking crazy."

It took weeks of arguing, but finally Bobby gave in. A bar was to be made. Jack threw himself into the work of renovating the space he purchased. Laboring to restore the house – hammering nails, painting walls, planning the pool – had been strangely soothing. Absent from music, he needed some way to get all of his energy out, and building was still a form of creating. He could still make something that hadn't existed without him. He could still be needed in this world. Do something good for once.

After planning and working and approval and zoning, this amorphous idea came into existence. Jack would own the place, book the acts, and take care of the place. They'd have a small staff for a small bar – he wanted something cozy and intimate. It took a lot of work to find and interview people who weren't just drawn the possibility of working for disgraced superstar Jackson Maine.

In the end, he hired only three. Kashvi, a middle-aged mother and classically trained chef who spoke fluent Hindi would be in charge of creating appetizers and ideas for new drinks including, she promised him, plenty of non-alcoholic options. Whitney was a recent graduate of Howard University who'd moved back home to Arizona to take a gap year before grad school. Her gifts in math and music meant that when she wasn't bartending, she could help Jack with bookings and accounting. And Mateo, whose father still lived across the border in Mexico, was a former addiction counselor who was in school to get in his master's degree in psychology – if any of them suspected a patron was self-medicating, Mateo would sit them down to talk. The last thing Jack wanted was for this to become a place where people could fall into the same dark spiral he had.

In total, it had taken nine months to prepare for the opening of this small dream of his. It felt a little like the birth of a child, this new beginning. He sure hoped he wouldn't fuck it up.

It was to be called The Deep End. A place one could metaphorically dive in to the music scene and into new possibilities. And a place that was far from the shallow, far from where his heart still wandered in the moments of quiet.

On the day before opening, he had a neon sign installed in the back corner. Mateo poked his head out from behind the bar. "What's that?" he asked.

"Just a finishing touch," Jack answered, as the crew installing it packed up their things.

The bartender peered at it, trying to make sense of it. "What does it mean?"

"None of your fuckin' business," Jack replied, though his voice carried no trace of meanness. Mateo just laughed, and Jack smiled, flipping a switch on the wall so that the sign bathed the room in a soft red-pink glow.

"_La vie en rose,_" Mateo read. "Hm. Never would've pegged you as an Edith Piaf fan."

Jack said nothing. He just stood staring up at its soft light, wondering if she still turned the original one on sometimes.

* * *

She stopped searching for his name on the internet. Muted any words related to him on her social media. No longer scanned for his face on magazine racks at the store. Ally heard rumors of course. Conversations passed in streets and at events. Whisper of Arizona and isolation. Going off the grid.

Good for him. Wherever he was, it wasn't here. It wasn't with her. And she could be okay with that. He'd been her whole world. But she had built one for herself, too, all on her own. A world with her words and her music. People who wanted to hear her. That could be enough. That could be a kind of love she could give instead, offering so freely so much of herself.

But every now and then, an old song of his would come on over the radio. A low, crooning voice. She would always have to leave the room, before something deep in her heart tried to whisper that once she had loved him, and it hadn't been enough.

* * *

"What do you think happened between them?" Whitney asked Mateo.

"Don't know, don't care," he answered, not looking up from the glass he was polishing.

Whitney leaned closer across the bar as she wiped it down. "Come on, you're not even a little bit curious?"

"All I know, Mateo replied, "is that the man pays my salary. And that's all that matters to me."

"You're no fun," she sighed. "I just wonder sometimes. I mean – they seemed so happy. She clearly loved him. And everyone thought he loved her, too. I mean the way he looked at her in all those videos of his tour? I guess I just wonder if he ever thinks about her."

Jack closed his office door quietly, blocking out the rest of their conversation. Did he think about her? The ninth step was to make amends. He'd done it with just about every fucking person in his life. Made sincere amends with his band, his manger, with Noodles and his family. Even with Bobby, in a two-hour long conversation that brought them both to tears that they never spoke of again. Not because it was bad to be that emotionally vulnerable with each other, but simply because they weren't sure how to.

But Ally? He was pretty sure he'd written her twenty-letters at this point. Even a goddamn song or two. All of which he'd never send. Never play. Because this was his amends. This was his penance. Freeing her of him and all his baggage. Letting her go. Disappearing from view so that she could shine.

It was the only way he could still love her – by leaving her alone.

* * *

At the time, she hadn't been sure she would survive that year. Now here she was, a year and a half out from the tragedy that could have defined her career and things were finally looking up. Ramon came to meet her at the studio that afternoon.

He sauntered in with two coffees in hand, pretending to be more annoyed than she knew he really was. "Alright girl, this had better be good because I cancelled lunch plans with Lukas and he is not thrilled about it."

Ally laughed, stepping away from the piano she'd been working at. "Your boyfriend will get over it. And I promise, it's something pretty good."

Ramon rolled his wrists and raised his eyebrows, gesturing for her to get on with it.

"You know those songs I've been writing? Well the label actually likes them. I mean, really likes them." She struggled to keep the glee out of her voice. "And they might want me to make a new album!"

Ramon broke into a grin. "That's great! I mean, it maybe could've waited until after lunch but I am so excited for y-"

Ally held up a finger. "I'm not done yet. If I'm going to do this right, I'm going to need a manger. After what happened with Rez, I talked Interscope into giving me a little leeway in choosing my new one." She looked at Ramon, her best friend, the person who had never once doubted her ability to be one of the few who made it. "I want you to be my manager."

His jaw dropped. "I'm sorry, _what? _You said manager?"

"Well, yeah, I mean I was just thinking," she said. "We get along great. You've always been the person who fought for me to perform even when I was afraid to. And you managed gigs at Bleu Bleu so it's not like you have no experience. I want to work with someone I trust, and you're my best friend in the whole world. There's nobody I trust more. You don't have to say yes," she added quickly. "But if you want to – the job is yours."

Ramon covered his face with his hands, his eyes wide. After a few breaths he asked, "What's the salary look like?"

Ally pulled a folded up contract out of her back jeans pocket and handed it to him. It had all the details the label demanded. Hours, benefits, duties, payment. Ramon's eyes quickly scanned it, and he gasped when he landed on a line about halfway through.

"This number – this is _starting_ salary?" Ally nodded and Ramon threw his arms around her. "Oh my god! Yes! Yes! I mean I was in from the moment you asked but holy shit! Yes!"

Ally laughed, hugging him back, the two of them giggling and dancing arm in arm around the recording studio. It felt good to feel this happy again.

"I'm going to make this the best album the world has ever seen, I swear. We have so much work to do," Ramon said. "But first thing's first. This-" he grabbed a strand of her long orange hair "- has got to go. No more day-glo girl. We're bringing back the O.G. Ally, back and better than before."

"Better?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "I'm kind of a hot mess." There had been moments of good, of course. Time with her father. Running around with Charlie. Taking small gigs at festivals and televised events. Interviews here and there where the interviewer was notified ahead of time to keep questions about Jackson Maine to minimum. But she was still the same drifting popstar she was a few months ago. Trying to find her footing in a world she had never navigated without someone else by her side.

Ramon squeezed her hand. "Sweetheart, don't you know? Any beautiful star is just a hot mess of gasses and stuff all swirled together."

"I don't know what your astrophysicist boyfriend has told you," Ally teased, " but I've read enough issues of _Popular Science_ to know that's not exactly how it works."

He shrugged. "I'll be honest we don't always do a lot of talking when we're together. But I know enough to know that we're all made of literal stardust. And you are no exception. So let's get you shining again."

* * *

_"And speaking of rising stars, Ryan, let's talk about _SUPERNOVA._ Now, I'm sure all of you listeners out there are talking about this album as well, because it has been at the top of the charts from the day it was released. What's your take on Ally's sophomore album?"_

_"Well Kelly, I don't know what I can possibly say that hasn't been said already. It's incredible. Ally's self-titled debut album proved she was a force in the pop world but this is truly something else. It's so raw and so real, and to be honest this album moved me in a way I don't think any other album has before."_

_"That's what so many critics and fans are saying. It's so clear that this album comes from a place of just, like, pain and loss, but it's so beautiful."_

_"It's an understatement to say Ally has been through a lot in the last three years. I mean, who could forget the moment she won Best New Artist at the Grammys only to be completely mortified when her then-husband Jackson Maine stumbled onto the stage completely wasted?"_

_"Oh god and when he pissed himself onstage! And she had to try to cover him with her dress. God my heart just went out to her watching that."_

_"She was slammed by a lot of people for staying with him, while others said she was being a supportive partner to someone who clearly had a problem. Either way, it made major tabloid headlines. Then, Maine had his infamous suicide attempt, which landed him in rehab for a second time. While he was there, Ally finished up her tour-"_

_"Where she debuted "I'll Never Love Again" as a tribute to Maine, but when she returned, he filed for divorce!"_

_"Oh man, I remember seeing it on Twitter and I was just so shocked."_

_"I remember going out with my girlfriends that night and we were all talking about it, and – well, I don't think I can repeat the words that were said about him on air."_

_"The last show of her tour, she sang that song one last time, and the performance went viral – you know if you watch it, you can see her just sobbing through it, but she hardly misses a note."_

_"It just goes to show how talented she is, Ryan. And after two years of relative silence, other than festival appearances and a few collaborations, Ally made a triumphant return when she released the first single from the new album, "Perfect Illusion." If there was any doubt what her new album would be about, that song made it very clear."_

_"And two more singles were released ahead of the album, "In Too Deep," and "Leap of Faith," all of which are still in the Top 40. Now the full album is out, and three more singles have been released. And yesterday we learned that Ally was nominated for eight Grammies for this album."_

_"Eight?"_

_"Eight Grammies, eight G's – including Album of the Year and Song of the Year. I mean she truly has pulled herself off the ground and risen as an even bigger star than before. It's just incredible. So Kelly, what's your favorite song from _SUPERNOVA_?"_

_"You know I have to say "Ugly." I now that sounds pretty weird, but it's just so intimate and vulnerable, and I think so many women out there can relate to it. What about you?"_

_"For me, it's gotta be "Private Party." It's a total banger, and the lyrics are like, so serious, but you can really dance to it. Well, listen, we could talk all day about this album, but I think the music really speaks for itself. So let's get straight to it – here's the latest single from _SUPERNOVA, _here on Phoenix's top station, Kiss 104.7 – it's "Nova" by Ally."_

Before the song could come on, he reached over and turned the radio off.


	4. Leap of Faith

"I'm just so honored to have the opportunity to let people know they're not alone in this, and that it does get better. So remember to love yourself when you feel unloved, and that what hurts can still be something beautiful. Because working on this album has been unlike anything I've ever experienced," Ally said.

"And listening to it has been unlike anything I've ever experienced," Ellen replied, without missing a beat. "Ally's new album _SUPERNOVA _is available everywhere, and you can tune in to see her perform at the Grammys next week. We'll be right back." They smiled into the audience until receiving the cue from the crew that the filming had stopped. Ally stood from the oversized white chair and Ellen got up to give her a hug. "Thanks for being on the show today," the talk show host said. "It was really a pleasure. You should be so proud of this album."

"Thank you so much," Ally said. "Really it means a lot."

"Well I'm going to get set up for our next game segment but if you're ever in Montecito, give me a call. Portia and I would love to have you."

Ally followed a crew member offstage, absolutely elated. The interview had gone better than she could've expected and to hear such praise from such a big name in Hollywood had her feeling hopeful for the week ahead. Not that she particularly needed the validation – _SUPERNOVA _had always been for her own enjoyment. It was catharsis. But it was still so wonderful to know that other people loved it too.

Back in the dressing room, she started to change out of the nice dress she'd worn for the segment and into nondescript street clothes she could easily leave the studio in. She had on only jeans and a bra when the door swung open. Crossing her arms over her chest to cover herself, she spun around to see her manager.

"Ramon, what the _fuck? _Could you give me a minute to change?" Ally hastily pulled her t-shirt on over her head.

"I'm sorry," he said," but I had to come show you something. I just got done Skyping with Lukas."

"Did something happen in Arizona?" she asked. Ramon's boyfriend had been doing field work out in the desert for the last two weeks. The lack of light pollution made it perfect for observing stars.

"Sort of. You might want to sit down for this." Confused, she took a seat on the dressing room couch. What could this be about? There were no more award nominations. Lukas wouldn't know if something had happened to her father. And Ramon seemed fine so nothing had happened to Lukas. "Please don't hate me for this. And don't get upset with me. I think you need to hear this, so just listen, okay?"

"Okay," she agreed warily. When Ramon wanted to he could be so cryptic. Always a flair for the dramatic.

He took a seat beside her. "So he and the rest of the team went to Phoenix this weekend to get a break from work. And… well, he used to be a big fan of Jackson's." Over two years later and the mention of his name could still knock the wind out of her. It was always a sucker punch to hear him brought up when she wasn't expecting it. That old wound in her heart throbbing just a little. "Ally tried to stay composed as he continued. "And I guess he has been in Arizona. He opened up this like music venue place, so Lukas went to go check it out. He sent me some pictures."

Ramon opened up the photos on his phone, showing her a blurry looking photo of his pale boyfriend in a dim space, surrounded by people and colored lights.

"This looks like a bar," she said, noting the counter and shelf of bottles in the background. "He opened a fucking bar?"

"I know what you're thinking," Ramon said. "But Lukas said that there's a ton of virgin drink options and signage up encouraging people to know their limits and look out for their friends, and directing them to a bartender they can talk to if they're worried they might have a problem. He talked to one of the people working who said that Jack has never once been behind the counter or touched a drink there. It… it sounds like he's sober."

Her stomach curled, a hollow ache. So he had been right. She wasn't good enough for him – he couldn't get sober for her, but he could get sober enough to run a bar. "Why are you telling me this?" she asked, unable to keep the edge of anger from her voice.

"Because of this picture," Ramon said. He swiped to a different photo – same Lukas, same space. But he pointed to a red spot in the background. "Do you recognize that?"

Ally looked at the photo, squinting. It was a neon sign up on the wall of the bar. All the air left her lungs as she realized it was the twin of the one that hung in her own house. "Oh my god," she breathed. "Is that…?"

"La vie en rose," Ramon replied. "It's exactly like yours. That song never had any meaning to him before. And nobody else knows that you sang it to him when you met. Neither of you have ever told that part of the story. So why would he put it up in his bar?

She hid her face in her hands. "I – I don't know. I don't know." It was overwhelming. She'd buried him for so long, why was Ramon bringing all of this back up now?

"I think… I think maybe he put it up hoping you would see it," Ramon ventured. She narrowed her eyes and he held his hands up to preemptively calm her before tentatively continuing. "I just think… well, you told me yourself that the divorce didn't make sense. And that Jack had been acting strange before. What if there was some reason he did all of this, and that sign is a way to tell you that he still cares about you?"

That couldn't be. It was impossible. A fantasy that she might've let herself entertain two years ago when it all stung so badly, but now? After all this time without even a word from him, there was just no way. Or was there?

"I don't know. I can't think about this right now, I – it's not…"

"And what about Rez?" Ramon added. "He told you that he called Jack an embarrassment around the time that you were thinking about cancelling the tour."

_You have to finish the tour. Swear you will. Fuckin' promise me you will. _That night came rushing back, his voice far away like sound traveling through water. His whole demeanor had changed when she mentioned cancelling the Europe leg.

"Oh my god," she breathed. "That was the night that Jack… that he… do you think Rez said something to him about it? Something that pushed him over the edge?" He had been so fragile then, sobriety a delicate tightrope act. When she had told him about cutting the tour short Jack had practically been catatonic.

"Ally, do you still love him?"

Did she? After everything? After the anger and grief and the loss she'd been through. After all that time in an empty house. After he'd sent her a letter with the cruelest of words to tell her he wanted to leave her. Despite it all, she knew the answer. Maybe it wasn't that rose-tinted romance she'd gotten swept up in before. But she wanted him to be okay. She wanted him to be happy. And if she was being honest with herself – she missed him like hell.

"Yes," she said quietly. While she no longer craved him the way she had before, she couldn't erase him from her heart. And nobody else had quite made her feel the way he did. So safe and so loved. Things hadn't always been good between them but when they were, god they were _so_good.

Did he still love her? And if he did, then why did he leave?

That sign. _Their _sign, the one he'd had made just for her. She just knew he was trying to tell her something. It was like her notebook, where he'd left song lyrics for her. Some little clue that he still cared.

"What do you want to do?" Ramon asked.

She sighed, leaning back in the dressing room chair. Her heart was still raw. And the Grammys were almost here. She'd worked her ass off for this opportunity and she wasn't about to let it slip away. Maybe in a movie she'd go running straight to him to make everything right. But this was her life, and she'd worked damn hard to build it back up. She was in love with the music she was writing and the response people had to it. This time, she had something she really wanted to say. Had legs to stand on. There was no way she was going to just give all that up. And Jack _had _hurt her…

"When all of this-" she gestured abstractly, "- is over… after the Grammys and rehearsals are done and the tour is finalized, I want a ticket to Phoenix. I have to go figure this out for myself." She paused and looked up at him. "Is… is that stupid?"

"Ally," Ramon said gently. He took her hands in his. "Ally, my favorite superstar, my employer, my best friend. You deserve the whole world. And if you want him in your world, then I will stand by you. I want you to be as loved as you make everyone else feel."

She bit her lip, fighting stray tears. It had been so long since someone spoke to her that way. "Okay. Book the ticket. I wanna see him."

* * *

After locking everything up and making sure all the lights were out, Jack headed home from The Deep End. There were voices in the house when he came in. That was odd. Bobby almost never had people over, and he always said something first if was planning to. "Bobby?" he called, setting his keys down on the counter. No reply.

Jack followed the sound into the living room, where he was met with the glow of a television screen. Oh. So that's where the sound was coming from. With the ringing it was hard to distinguish some days what was real and what was electronic. Bobby said nothing, just continued staring at the screen. It took only seconds before Jack realized what he was watching. The stage, the crowd of well-dressed celebrities. Was it really that time of year again already?

Two members of a rock band were standing on a stage, envelopes in hand. "And the Grammy for Song of the Year goes to… "Leap of Faith" by Ally!"

The screen cut to an image of what must have been the music video for the song, and he was face to face with Ally, her green eyes wide as she leapt from a cliff face. Strong piano chords could be heard as the chorus played.

_"And you said, trust me, that's all it takes_  
_so I went running, in a leap of faith,_  
_and I fell all the way the cold hard ground_  
_still staring at your face,_  
_should've known you couldn't catch me_  
_while you were falling far from grace."_

Jackson swallowed hard. He'd heard some of her new songs before – it was practically impossible to avoid them these days, Ally was everywhere – but he'd never really listened to this one. The words cut straight to his heart. Suddenly he was standing on a stage at The Forum, the crowds screaming, and he was hugging her close, begging her to come on the stage and sing with him. _All you gotta do is trust me. That's all you gotta do._

Back on screen, Ally was climbing the stage to accept the award. God, she was stunning. Her hair was back to its natural brown color, her makeup was simple, all roses and golds. She looked like _her_again. And the dress. It was sleeveless, a gorgeous white gown beneath layers of black tulle that were covered in golden stars and glitter, to the point where her hem sweeping the stairs looked like stars were brushing the ground. As she approached the podium the camera panned in on her, revealing the golden halo-like crown she wore, with stars that seemed to radiate off of it, and the tiny golden stars pressed to her cheeks.

"They're really playing up this fucking star thing, huh," Jack said. Bobby didn't answer. And then she started talking.

"Wow, thank you. Thank you for taking a chance on me with this song. I want to thank…" Ally was talking but Jackson could hardly hear her. Was it the tinnitus causing that ringing in his ears? Or the rushing of blood in his head as he stared at her on the television? Ally. His Ally. Ally whose life he'd nearly ruined. Look at where her career was without him. She was better off. It was better this way, of course it was.

Why had Bobby turned this on? To torture him? Remind him of all the sins he had to repent for? He already knew he was damned for what he did.

Before he knew it, she was finished, walking back down the stairs to take her seat once more. If it had gone to commercial, maybe he would have walked away. But there was just one award left, and as a rapper whose name he couldn't remember approached the stage with Adele, he stood rapt in attention. As they listed off the nominees for Album of the Year, he tried to remember how many of the songs he'd heard from_SUPERNOVA_. Suddenly he wasn't sure. Were they good? No, this was Ally, of course they were good. Damn good, he was willing to bet. Good enough to win her Album of the Year? He wasn't sure. How many awards had she already won that night? Surely the album had garnered awards even before the Grammys. Why hadn't he been paying attention to her more?

He missed her. He missed her so fucking much.

"And the winner is-" Adele gently opened the envelope and the pair peered at it.

The rapper broke into a grin, leaning into the microphone and shouting, "_SUPERNOVA, _by Ally!"

The music swelled again, and there she was returning to the stage, looking absolutely ethereal in that dress as they handed her another little golden trophy. "I – I don't really know what to say now that I've had the chance to be up here so many times tonight," she said, laughing a bit. God, that laugh was so beautiful. _She _was so beautiful. "And I don't really have anyone else left to thank. So I guess I'll just speak from the heart. The last three years have been… a journey to say the least. But to anyone out there struggling, I am asking you not to give up. If you're hurting, I want you to know that the most painful experience of your life-" She paused, inhaling to fight the tears forming in her eyes. One of the many producers flanking her on stage briefly set a hand on her shoulder. "Can become something extraordinarily beautiful with enough time and enough love. Only when a star dies can it form a supernova, an explosion of light and color. So when you think you've reached the end, know that it it's not over. It's just the beginning." She stared straight into the camera and for a moment he felt like she was looking right at him, an intense gazed beamed from hundreds of miles away to this very moment.

And he couldn't look away.

* * *

Ally posed for one last photo, dozens of flashbulbs going off in her face. Aftershocks of light stayed with her each time she blinked as she made her way off of the paparazzi portion of the red carpet, and towards the interviewers who were eagerly waiting for anyone headline-worthy to walk by. Thankfully since it was the Oscars, she wouldn't have to answer any tough questions – it wasn't her night, she was just here to have a good time and celebrate the successes of some of her newest friends in the industry. She could see Ramon in the distance, laughing with a handful of other managers, all waiting for their stars to leave the carpet. She caught his eye and started towards him, sighing with relief at the opportunity to breathe again. Before she could reach him, an interviewer cut across her path.

The woman's stiff smile widened, having effectively trapped her target. "Ally, how good to see you!" It took her a moment to recognize the face – this was Joanie Striker, the host of a talk show on an entertainment gossip channel.

"Hello," Ally said, hoping to convey her desire to keep walking while remaining cordial. Joanie however, didn't budge. Instead she beckoned her cameraman closer.

"It's so fantastic to see you. Straight off of your record-tying Grammys night, which put you right up in the ranks with the likes of Adele, Beyoncé, and Amy Winehouse! You look lovely by the way, who are you wearing?" Joanie gestured to her dress, a white gown with plunging neckline, the hem of which was lined with bright orange flowers.

Ally gave her best practiced smile, making an obligatory spin to show off the dress. "It's a Brandon Maxwell original. He's so talented. Now that my hair is back to it's natural color, I've been looking for a chance to wear something orange. It adds such a pretty pop of color."

"And speaking of talented, _SUPERNOVA _has just been smashing all kinds of records since it's release, so a big congratulations to you."

"Well, thank you." Out of the corner of her eye she searched for Ramon to come save her.

Joanie leaned in closer. "Now you know, Ally, I have to ask – is it safe to assume that all of these songs are about your previous relationship with Jackson Maine?"

Ally tried not to flinch. In all her press tours, the interviewers had been explicitly told not to ask about Jack. Their marriage, the divorce, and especially the rehab were all off-limits. Now this tabloid leech was going off-script hoping to get the scoop. Too bad she was going to be disappointed.

With a perfectly polite poker face she replied, "The album was really the product of reflection and self-care, and it was very cathartic for me. I put a lot of love into it and it challenged me to grow as an artist."

Unfazed, Joanie pressed on. "But since your split you've kept very quiet on the details of your relationship. Surely there's some tea you could spill – anyone who has listened to "Ugly" can guess that being married to Maine wasn't always a walk in the park!"

Tense moments flashed through her mind, split-second visions of him – passed out in a bed, at the bottom of another bottle, cursing at her from the edge of the bathtub. She tried to focus on the sounds of the camera flashes, grounding herself in the present.

"I like to let my music speak for itself," Ally said curtly. Ramon stepped up next to her, setting his hand on her arm to let her know he was there to help her exit the conversation. "My fans will hear it and use it however they need to in their own life, and my hope is that it gives them permission to feel whatever they need to feel in that moment."

"Are you still in touch with him?" Joanie asked. Her stiff, fake smile still plastered on as her eyes narrowed, going in for the final punch. "I mean, arguably you owe your whole career to him."

Ally bristled and it took every ounce of self-control not to yell at the woman before her. Instead she shot a glare cold enough to freeze hell over and said, "I think we're done here." With a careful spin, she turned on her heel and strode away into the throng of celebrities.

Moments later Ramon caught up to her. "Don't worry, I made the cameraman erase all that footage. I'm sorry, I should have been watching out for them. You okay?"

"I can't fucking believe it" she hissed. "I put out an album that shatters sales records. The top five spots on the Billboard are all my singles. And I win five Grammys in one night – and they still want to ask me about my love life. Would they pull that shit with a man?"

"Course they wouldn't," Ramon said. "And that shit shouldn't fly at all, but I'm proud of you for keeping your cool."

Ally sighed, brushing a loose strand of hair back into place. "I don't want to ruin my friends' big night over some bitchy gossip reporter. She's not worth the effort."

Ramon took her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. "Well forget what she said. I don't care how you got discovered – you are and always have been a goddamn star in your own right. And I'm really proud of you."

They started up the stairs together. It was true – maybe touring with Jack had helped her star to rise, but she'd become a supernova on her own. Hadn't she? Or was her success only due to the fact that he'd handed her a tragedy with which to launch her career on? What was she without him? Even in his absence she was tied to him. Still – they were _her _words. Her notes. It was her voice. Nobody could take that from her.

Did he think of her this much? Did he feel her absence so acutely? He'd put up that sign hadn't he? A neon light to quietly broadcast to the world that what he was now was somehow still tied to her. That he was trying to be something better for her. She could only hope that was true. That somewhere out beneath the same starlit sky, was a version of Jack who used her name like a mantra whenever old temptations beckoned and felt the same sting of loneliness and overwhelming longing that she did each time someone played "Shallow."

* * *

Jack shut the door of the car and took the CD out of the shopping bag. He'd run in, grabbed it, paid at the self-checkout, and run out without even glancing at it. Lest someone see him and start wondering what Jackson Maine was doing purchasing a copy of his ex-wife's album. Now he flipped it over in his hands, staring at the art and scanning the track listing on the back.

_SUPERNOVA_

_01 In Darkness_  
_02 In Too Deep_  
_03 Rose Colored_  
_04 Private Party_  
_05 Leap of Faith_  
_06 Shatter_  
_07 Perfect Illusion_  
_08 Million Reasons_  
_09 Ugly_  
_10 Black Hole_  
_11 I'll Never Love Again_  
_12 The House We Built_  
_13 Nova_

Oh no. A song called "Ugly?" Some of these were going to hurt to hear. He deserved it, of course, after what he'd done to her. She had every right to be angry with him and to call him out. What a mess he'd made. That she could create something beautiful from it was nothing less than a miracle.

He turned it back over to front to look at the cover art. The CD was black and dotted with stars. On the front, a profile of Ally tilted her head down with closed eyes, and the image of a shining supernova was superimposed over her. How many times had he woken up to see her like that, looking so peaceful as she slept beside him? Her soft skin, her perfect nose. Now the closest he could get was a photo on a piece of plastic. After fifteen minutes of just staring at the album, he Jack finally removed the plastic wrapping and inserted the CD into the truck's audio player, took a deep breath – and pressed play.

* * *

The jet touched down and she began collecting her things. Purse, hat, sunglasses. She was going to need them, even through the airplane windows she could tell it was hot out there in the Arizona sun. It had been a long time since she'd been here. Ally had purposefully avoided the state, only making a brief stop in Phoenix for a music festival a year and a half ago. At the time she had been so angry and confused, and trying like hell to avoid anything that hurt. Now she kept replaying their last days in a new light, trying to piece together the puzzle she'd been left.

Rez had talked to Jack and called him an embarrassment. Told him that he was ruining her image and her career. Maybe said something worse, something capable of convincing a struggling man that he was too much of a burden on the people around him. She was convinced of it now that something had happened to make Jack try to hurt himself so badly as to leave this world.

And that night in the hospital – he'd assured her he never wanted to hurt her. He'd begged her to finish the tour. Then sent Bobby with divorce papers and a letter contradicting everything he'd said to her the first time he went into Hillside.

How many nights had she spent crying over him? Screaming to the heavens demanding to know why she hadn't been enough for him. How many nights had she spent missing him? Thinking she would have given anything to feel his lips on her neck once more, as he whispered how much he loved her.

There were only two possibilities.

The first, that Jack had never stopped loving her. Everything he had done had been because he loved her and didn't want to hurt her. The incident in the garage some misguided and twisted attempt to help her by freeing her from him. The divorce a way to save her career from his own demons. Hadn't Rez said he was hurting her image? Maybe he knew she'd never leave him and so he'd made the decision for her. Not that he had any right to but it was Jack – Jack who has so much more delicate than he looked. Those broad shoulders were misleading, he cried easily and had a heart that could so quickly be wounded. And he almost always blamed himself. He had given up everything he had in order to let her live her dream.

The second was that he had never loved her in the first place. That his words had all been true – their relationship was built of one-sided infatuation and copious intoxication. He had only been playing along with this game because he had nothing better to do. Being with her had been unbearable. None of it meant anything at all. She didn't mean anything at all. Jack was simply an addict whose only love was getting high and making music, in that order. She had helped him ruin himself.

So which was it? What was real?

The sign. Everything came down to that sign. _La vie en rose_, that life they had shared. A beacon calling out to her. Was it even still up?

She remembered how he'd stared at her in Le Bleu Bleu. How he'd traced over the tip of her nose that night in a noisy bar. His hands gently roaming over her body in a quiet hotel room in the middle of the night. His laughter as he begged her to put her Edith Piaf makeup on him in the bathtub.

"Ally?" Ramon asked. "We're okay to deplane. Are you sure you're ready for this?"

There was only one way to quiet the ache in her heart she'd been trying to put away for the last three years. And if he loved her – hadn't they had a love worth fighting for?

Ally put on her hat. "I'm ready," she said.

* * *

She pushed the door of the bar open and stepped into the dim light. Catching a glimpse of the soft red light from the corner of the room, her lips curled into a half-smile. She'd been right.

The young man behind the counter called out to her. "Sorry ma'am, but we're not open. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave."

Unfazed, she walked over to the counter, her heels clacking against the wood floor. Leaning up against the bar counter she said, "I'm not here for a drink. I'm here to see Jack."

The man pulled back, sizing her up. Probably worried she was a fan in search of an autograph. Maybe one of the crazy ones in search of something more. At the least, some woman he'd spurned at some point. "Uh, sorry but Mr. Maine doesn't meet with patrons. If you w-"

"He'll meet with me," she said, cutting him off. Slowly she reached up to remove her wide black hat and her dark sunglasses.

The man's eyes widened and he pressed his mouth into a thin line in an effort to maintain composure. "Well then, I, uh I guess I could-"

"Mateo, who the fuck are you talking to? Tell 'em we're not open!" Jack had heard the bartender speaking to someone from inside his office. The lead singer of one of tonight's acts had made a habit of coming around the morning before to complain about the sound quality of the room or insist on particulars regarding lighting or drink options. Jack had about had it with her diva attitude, and had come out fully prepared for an argument with the woman.

What he wasn't prepared for was to step into the bar and see_her_. Her long brown hair flipped over her shoulder as she turned to gaze at him with those green eyes, a flash of surprise softening her features. His heart lurched and he could've sworn he'd same that same expression on her face before, when he'd called out to her from the window of an SUV. As their eyes met, the ghost of a smile played at the edges of her mouth.

"Fuck," he said. "Ally?" Surely he was dreaming.

"Hi." He'd dreamed of her voice before but it had never sounded so clear. This was real. Ally was here in his bar. How the fuck was he going to explain that one to her? A recovered alcoholic running a bar. Jesus.

"What are you doing here?"

Ally stepped away from the bar and walked over to him, swaying sweeter than any dream in a pair of tight black pants and a loose white tank top. Jack fought the instinct to take a step back, move away from the past hurtling towards him. Those high heels of hers gave her a few inches, but she still had to look up at him. "Isn't it obvious? I'm here for you."


	5. La Vie En Rose

Jack stared at her, blinking. A handful of times, when he'd allowed himself to imagine that he still meant enough to her that she would come to find him, he had rehearsed exactly how he'd feign indifference and pretend to be cruel to her. Maybe recite a few lines from the letter he'd left for her so she wouldn't be tempted to stay. He would do whatever it took to get her to keep away from him so that he could keep her safe. Or so he'd told himself.

But now she was here, standing before him, and he knew instantly that those ideas were just fantasy. There was no way he could say those things to her face. He couldn't pretend he wasn't still madly in love with her. There was a reason he'd sent Bobby to deliver those divorce papers years ago – because Jack was a shitty liar and it would only take one single frown from her to make him confess all his sins and beg for her forgiveness.

"I have a lot of questions," Ally said.

"I'm sure you do," he replied.

"I'm gonna go do inventory in the stockroom," Mateo said loudly. Jack waited until he heard the stockroom door shut before gesturing to the barstools at the counter with a sigh.

"What do you want to know?" he asked, as they took a seat.

Ally glanced around the room. "So you're sober now?"

"Almost two and a half years."

"Even while running a bar?"

He gave a bitter chuckle. "It's uh… it's kinda like exposure therapy. I knew if I could handle being here I could handle being anywhere." And he'd been able to. The beginning had been the toughest, but at this point he could easily work through the nights without wishing for a taste of the bitter liquid or longing for one more high.

She nodded. "And The Deep End?" she asked.

"I figured I'd gone way off of it. And I was far from "The Shallow." From you."

"Why did you go away from me in the first place?" she asked. Those green eyes looking right through him.

Jack fiddled with a silver ring on his finger. If there was anything that brought on cravings, it was remembering that night and the weeks that had followed. "I was trying to do the right thing," he said. "I… I know I hurt you. And I know I fucked things up, but I was trying to do right by you."

"By killing yourself?" He looked up, startled, and she flinched. "Sorry. I just – I've spent the last two years trying to make sense of what happened then. Trying to find closure somehow. Usually I find it in music but this time it's not enough. I still feel this… empty space. I _need_to understand. Please."

She was pleading, and he was never good at saying no to her. "I wasn't in a good place then. This whole being sober shit just was so new and I was still so embarrassed about the Grammys. Honestly I was kinda shocked you still wanted to be with me."

"Did Rez say something to you?" Ally asked. When he didn't answer she said, "I know he did something. He told me as much. Look you don't have to protect him – I fired him at the end of the tour."

"You f_ired_him?"

"I don't regret it," she said, straightening up. "I didn't want a manager who thought he controlled my whole life." That explained why she'd gone back to her natural look. The brown hair, the minimal makeup. Ally had been willing to play the right games to reach her goal but he'd always known deep down that just wasn't her.

If Rez was out of her life then he could be honest. And he owed her that didn't he? Fuck, he owed her the world, but honesty was a good place to start. "He came by the house before your show. Told me that I was running your career. I was an embarrassment. He said… that you looked like a fucking joke, staying with me. And that there was no way I could stay sober. And I was so fucking scared that he was right. I couldn't let that ruin your career or stop you from singing. I didn't want you to waste your time taking care of me when you had the whole damn world to see.

"Then when you came in and said the European leg was cancelled I thought maybe it was my fault. That I'd fucked up so bad they didn't want you to go anymore. Or worse – that you were giving up your dream because you thought you needed to stay and babysit me instead. I just couldn't…" He crossed his arms, trying to ground himself. He could feel that night coming back, the panic, the devastation. The feeling that everything Rez had said was coming true, and surely it was only matter of time before he fucked up again.

Then he'd found the pills in the glove compartment and it had all seemed so clear. This was the only way he could protect her. He had to sacrifice himself for her. He had to let her shine, like the star she was, and he'd felt like a giant fucking black hole, sucking everything good into it and shredding it to pieces. What a terrible thing to be. Didn't he owe it to the world to leave it? Hadn't he always known that? Just like when he was fourteen and trying to escape it all. The world didn't need him.

But that hadn't been true, because the world had insisted on him staying – not once, but twice. And he'd learned with time that the black hole wasn't him, it was in him. These festering wounds and old demons he'd never really learned to heal. AA was good for that. So was therapy. And while it wasn't an easy existence, he found small joys. Getting to help bring a new artist or band into the spotlight every night at the bar. Swimming. Feeling close to Bobby for the first time since he was a kid.

"I couldn't do that you," he said. "After that first time in rehab, the only thing – the only fucking thing – that ever made me want to drink or hurt myself was the thought of hurting you. I couldn't bear it. I didn't want to drag you down. If you stayed with me, I was so sure I was gonna ruin your life and I just couldn't do that. How selfish would that be? How the hell could I ask that of you? I wasn't any fucking good for you, and that was all I wanted to be. And I didn't know what the fuck to do so I… I just let the darkness win."

He was staring down at his lap, focusing on the thread patterns in his jeans. He couldn't bear to look at her right now. "I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have put you through that. I was a fucking idiot, thinking that me dying would help you. And I when I woke up in the hospital I knew that. I couldn't hurt you like that again, but I needed to let you go. I knew you were too good to leave me. I had to stop being selfish. So when I was in rehab I asked Bobby to file the papers for me for divorce."

"You didn't even tell me in person," Ally whispered, a trace of anger in her voice.

"I couldn't. I knew that if I saw you, I would break down and tell you everything. I told you, I just couldn't fucking stand seeing you upset. So I made Bobby do it for me. I was afraid I was gonna cost you everything and I didn't want you to give anything else up for me. I knew I had to leave you even if that meant doing something that might cause you pain. I wasn't good for you so I had to leave you."

"You didn't give me any choice in the matter," Ally said. "We were both in that relationship, but you didn't let me decide for myself what was good for me."

He forced himself to look at her. She was glaring at him, her mouth pressed into a thin line. "If things had gotten bad, would you have made that choice? Or would you have given up your career?"

"At least I'd get to make a fucking choice!" she snapped, and Jack knew he was right.

"If you stopped singing because of me, I would've never been able to forgive myself," he said softly. "You'd worked too damn hard for everything to throw it all away for a washed-up has-been who was past his prime. I needed to give you the space to shine because you were too damn good to choose yourself over me."

Ally wrapped her arms around herself, like she could hold back all the things she was feeling. When it was all too overwhelming, he used to hold her. Now they kept a healthy foot between them as they sat at the bar, and his arms ached with absence.

"Do you know how much time I spent thinking I wasn't enough for you?" she asked. "Wondering what I did wrong?"

Her words were a stab right through his heart. He had hurt her after all. "You were more than enough," he told her. "God, the only the reason I only reason I could do any of this is because I love you. I moved out here to stay out of the press so you could focus on your career. I named this place after your song. The only reason I even wanted to open it was because of you. I know I hurt you, and I'm sorry," he said, his voice wavering. "I'm so sorry I put you through that and I'm so sorry I left you alone. I never wanted to do that. It wasn't your fault. It was mine, it was always my own fucking fault."

He cursed the tears threatening to rise in his eyes as he fought to keep his composure. He needed her to understand how serious he was, how much he meant this. "You did nothing wrong. You never did anything wrong at all. Ally you're… you're the only thing I've ever done right. The only goddamn thing. The only reason I'm sober. Hell, you're the only reason I'm still alive. I would've been gone a long time ago without you. You gave my life meaning for the first time since I learned how to play a guitar. You made me want to be better. It's always been for you. I wouldn't be alive without you," he said, struggling to get through the words.

When he looked up, he saw she was crying silently as she stared at him. Something in him broke and the tears began to flow freely down his face. "I'm so sorry, Ally. I'm so sorry," he cried. Ally covered her face with her hands, but he could still see her eyes, which she had shut so tight. He couldn't bear to watch her cry like that, and instinctively he reached out towards her. Inches away from her arm he froze, hand hanging in the air, terrified to move. The sounds of their crying echoing off the walls in the empty bar. Deciding that there wasn't much he could do to make things worse, he tentatively brushed his hand against her shoulder. To his surprise she didn't pull away – didn't even flinch. So with his other hand he tapped her wrist, and she removed her hand from her face, freely letting him take it. When his fingers closed around hers, she suddenly opened her eyes, and looked at him with an expression he could only describe as pleading.

Longing.

It was the same longing he felt too, every part of his body railing against the fact that she was sitting there and they were still somehow so far apart. The distance so unnatural even after all that time On impulse, Jack stood from the stool and reached out to pull her into his arms. Her body against his. And the moment he did, she hugged him back, hands clutching tight to the fabric of his shirt as they both broke down into sobs. His shoulders shook as he held her the way he'd dreamt of doing every single day for two years. But this was real. It was real because it'd hurt his heart so fucking much to tell her everything, to face what he'd done.

He'd take the pain. He would take the pain a million times over for a single moment to hold her in his arms. It was catharsis. It was healing. It was all of the heartache they'd carried so deep inside finally spilling out. They sat there, huddled together crying until sobs gave way to sniffles and he relished in the feeling of the two of them slowing their breathing together. Inhaling, exhaling the same air.

When they'd both calmed down enough, he asked, "How did you even find me?"

Jack released her from his arms but as he pulled back she caught his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers. "It was Ramon. His boyfriend was here a few months ago and he sent photos of the place. Ramon saw the sign and thought I should know." She nodded towards the rosy neon sign he'd put up himself. "So I guess my next question is why? Why that sign? _Our _sign?"

He shrugged. "Because it was ours. It was yours." The glowing cursive script reminiscent of the words she'd sang that night when he fell headfirst for her. A reminder of the best part of himself, the part capable of loving and being loved by her. "I never stopped loving you. And I guess I just wanted a way of saying it, even if I thought you'd never know."

Realizing what he'd said, Jack quickly backpedaled. "Shit I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that I – I don't wanna make you uncomfortable or anything. And I don't expect anything from you." The sentiment had slipped so easily from his lips and he was afraid that it might scare her off. And yet she hadn't let go of his hand. She looked right into his eyes, completely steady. The air between them was so ripe with tension and he swore it was like some kind of electricity between them. Ally opened her mouth and he held his breath and –

"Hey we're gonna have to open up soon," Mateo shouted. Ally let go of his hand and they both jumped at the sound of the bartender's voice.

"Shit," Jack muttered. "Um there's gonna people here soon. Pretty popular band playing tonight. I don't know what…" he trailed off, unsure of what to say. The last thing he wanted was for someone to catch the two of them together and start a media wildfire. Ally didn't need that kind of press right now.

But then she asked, "Is there somewhere private we could go?" and relief crashed over him. He wasn't ready for this conversation to end yet.

"I've got an office in the back," he offered.

* * *

Two years hadn't changed much, she thought as she followed him to the back of the restaurant. Long messy hair and that scruffy beard. It looked cleaner now though, like he remembered to take better care of himself. There was a little more gray in it, a reminder that time had in fact passed since she'd last seen him. His skin was tan, his eyes so bright blue. They didn't have that distant look she'd come to fear. And body didn't hold tension like it used to, as if he was ready to run away at any given moment. There was a peacefulness in the way he carried himself.

That was good. It was about time he found some peace.

Jack closed the door behind him and she glanced around his office – it was fairly sparse, with a desk, a chair, and a small couch. There was a shelf on one wall with several CDs and records lined up on it. She had expected to see big posters and photos from his glory days on the wall, like the ones she'd reduced to sparkling, shattered glass on the floor of the house, but there were only two things on the wall – one was a poster that listed the Twelve Steps, the other was a piece of paper taped up on which the Serenity Prayer was scrawled in his own handwriting.

She took a seat on the couch and he, perhaps trying to give her space, walked to the chair behind the desk. He sat down, then glanced at her and laughed. "I feel like this a meeting," he said.

Ally chuckled. It did seem quite formal, the desk between them when moments ago she had been in his arms. His embrace felt as safe as she remembered, and just as warm. The smell of his shirt and cologne wonderfully familiar, like the night of her album release when he'd held her close on the rooftop and told her that her music was the stuff of angels…

"Do you have meetings in here?" she asked.

"Yeah, sometimes. When we're booking new performers or Bobby wants to go over the finances and shit."

She tried to imagine him looking serious in a business meeting, and just couldn't do it. He wasn't like the record label sharks who wore slick suits and cut deals. Jack said what he meant and was a shitty liar who couldn't imagine trying to take advantage of a person.

"What made you want to open this place anyways?"

He looked down at his hands. "I mean… I wanted to do something that helped people. Guess I was tired of only thinking about myself." She wants to interrupt and tell him that's not true, but he doesn't pause long enough to let her speak. "And I got to thinking about you and the night I first saw you – at Bleu Bleu, and you were wearing those eyebrows and I thought you were too damn good to be singing in a fuckin' bar. And I realized that if my drunk ass hadn't wandered in that night maybe you still would be and that just wouldn't be right. Then I thought that there must be a lot of people like that, and I wanted to help them share their message. Give 'em a platform. You know, I figured plenty of people in the industry might come by here if my name is on it and maybe they'd hear one of them singing their heart out on stage and think the same thing I did."

"That's really beautiful," she said.

There was a knock from the other side of the door and a woman's voice called, "Jack! We need to do sound check and that Gwyneth chick is complaining that speakers make her voice sound tinny. It's your turn to deal with her!"

Rolling his eyes, he apologized and slipped back out of the office. Ally stood up, wandering over to the shelf to glance at the music. None of his albums were there, but the familiar black spine of _SUPERNOVA _was right in the middle. Had he listened to it? Of course he would've, everyone knew it was about him and how he'd left her. What had he thought of those songs and the artist she had become?

She walked over to his desk and opened a few of the drawers. Those on the side were full of paperwork, but the long drawer in the center had a notebook open in it. Recognizing his handwriting, she pulled the drawer open further to read it.

_Toast one last drink and two last regrets  
Three spirits and twelve lonely steps  
Up heaven's stairway to gold  
Mine myself like coal  
A mountain of a soul  
Each day, I cry  
Oh, I feel so low from living high_

_My heart would break without you  
Might now awake without you  
Been hurting low from living high for so long  
I'm sorry, and I love you  
Stay with me, "Bell Bottom Blue"  
I'll keep searching for an answer, cause I need you more than booze._

All this time, she had told herself that he didn't love her. That he didn't even care about her. She thought there was no chance he missed her or even thought of her. But everything he'd done had been because of her. _For_her. He moved away to lay low so her music could be the focus. He'd built a bar to help fledgling singers get discovered. He'd named it for "Shallow", hung their sign on the wall. He'd written songs about her. Gotten sober because of her.

It didn't excuse the hurt he'd caused her. At the same time, she knew he was right, that she never would have left him on her own. They'd been too codependent back then, so reliant upon each other for inspiration and validation. They didn't know how to ask for help from anyone else or when to walk away from something that wasn't healthy. Love was one hell of a drug.

And he did love her. What he did had been misguided and messed up. He'd broken her heart and destroyed the life they'd built, but there was no doubt in her mind that he loved her still. But was it a love that could sustain itself? One that could be healthy, and grow.

He'd told her that he didn't expect anything from her.

And hearing those words from him, confirmation of what she'd read into and hoped for, it had done something to her heart. She loved him too, of course. But could she let him love her again?

The door swung open and Jack came back in, and the moment she looked into his eyes she already knew the answer.

His gaze trailed down to the open drawer and Ally felt sheepish for snooping. "I'm sorry," she began, but Jack just waved his hand.

"It's fine. I'd say you have a right to do just about anything you please with my stuff. Besides, I don't have anything to hide. Not from you."

This time, they both sat on the couch, with a decent gap of space between them. Suddenly she didn't know what to say, not with the truth laid out before her like this.

"It's been a long time since I was in Arizona," she tried.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I think since I traveled with you. They tried to get me to do a few shows here for my last tour but I just couldn't be here."

"Well, that's alright there's not really much worth seeing here. Just a lot of sand and retirees," he joked.

Ally smiled. "But you're happy out here?"

Jack rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know if… _happy_is the right word for it. But I'm not unhappy. I like the work. I like the people. I like being sober. And I know this little bar ain't much, but I don't know. There's something about this place."

There was something about it. He'd built it himself, from an idea into a tangible space. Somewhere people could be together and hear something beautiful.

"It's really special," she told him.

Jack glanced at the door. From outside the muffled sounds of people and a guitar could be heard. "Do you wanna see it? I mean, how it really is when it's not empty?" Ally frowned and Jack added, "We could hide you. It'd just be in the back of the bar. Mateo can get you a drink and I'll have Kashvi keep an eye out to make sure nobody bothers you."

It was risky. If anyone recognized her, it would be all over the papers. Ally, in Jackson Maine's bar. The paparazzi would have a field day. No doubt it would be all over the tabloids and talk shows. Ramon would have to field a thousand interviews. It would be so stupid. But she found herself saying, "Sure. I'd love that."

After a little digging around in the office, Jack came up with a few articles clothing to cover her up in. Ally tucked her hair into a baseball cap, slipped on an oversized motorcycle jacket, some too-big sneakers, and a pair of round sunglasses.

"You sure this'll work?" she asked.

"Don't worry. I'll get up on stage and say some shit so everyone will be paying attention to me. Just hang in the corner in look bored for a song, then sneak back in here. Come out when you hear my voice, alright?"

Jack went out first, and as instructed she waited until she could hear him over the speakers before quickly leaving the office and slinking out into the crowd with her head down. Sure enough, everyone's focus was on Jack as he introduced the next act and thanked everyone for coming. An excited murmur went through the room. It must've been rare for him to make a public appearance. Ally took her place in the back corner of the bar, wedged up by the counter. Mateo discreetly slid her a drink – a whiskey and coke, she realized, as she took a sip – and the band began to play.

They were good. The girl singing had a tinny voice, it definitely wasn't the speakers. But it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Just a different sound. And the crowd seemed to be enjoying it. People were swaying and dancing, groups of friends at tables would pause between sentences to listen to the music. The lights were warm hues, balanced nicely by the soft glow of the neon pink sign in the back. A few patrons chatted happily with Mateo and the other bartenders, and an Indian woman who she assumed was Kashvi brought out orders of food that smelled divine – far better than anything she'd seen in a bar before.

All of it just felt _good_. She remembered the pleasure of performing on a stage like that. Recognizing faces in the crowd, the regulars who would sing along to cover songs. Nobody clamoring for photos or anything – just taking in the moment. Letting the music move them. It made her nostalgic for a time when she didn't have to hide her face in public. But she was willing to bet the people on that stage would give anything to be singing in the venues she'd played at.

She let herself get lost in the vibration of the drums and giddy laughter of the people around her. It all felt so intimate and vibrant. He really had made something special here. Ally pulled his motorcycle jacket a little tighter around herself. It smelled of smoke, exhaust, and sweat and she could almost hear the wind whipping past them as they drove to the endless Arizona horizon so long ago.

Being here was like her universe folding in on itself. Past touching future touching past. Her life had been marked by "before Jack" and "after Jack" and "after Jack left," and suddenly they were in the same room again and when he looked it her it still made her heart race the way it had when he first looked at her with that blue-eyed gaze.

All too soon, the song was ending and Jack was stepping back on stage, much to the chagrin of Gwyneth. Ally tossed back the rest of her drink before leaving the glass on the counter and slinking back through the bar towards the bathroom and dressing room. Jack was saying something about the band and how much he appreciated them sharing their music. Sneaking a glance back to make sure nobody was looking, she quickly ducked back into Jack's office. The soft sounds of a new song began playing and a tinny voice began to sing a familiar tune. _"Treat me like your patient, just don't keep me waiting. Or I'll just be wasted in a crowd of the…"_

The door swung open once more and Jack hurried in, locking it behind them. He leaned up against the door, grimacing, and she soon heard the sound of footsteps and excited chatter, his name crooned over and over again. The two of them sat in silence, holding their breath until mercifully they heard Mateo's voice over the crowd.

"Hey, hey hey! Mr. Maine has already left the building. Now you're welcome to continue enjoying the show, but if you insist on hanging around his office I'll have to ask you all to leave." There were a few groans and someone said, _fuck off man_, but the crowd gradually dispersed until there was nobody left outside. Mateo kicked the door twice with his foot before walking off, in what she assumed was a signal that the coast was clear.

Jack looked at her and for some reason the expression of relief on his face made her laugh. It only took a second before the two of them burst into a fit of giggles. It felt so silly to be sneaking around like this, as if they were two lovestruck teenagers coming home after curfew.

When the laughter settled she said, "Thank you for that. You were right – it's really something." He smiled at her with such tenderness that she couldn't help but reach out and take his hand. His skin calloused and warm. It made her feel so safe to hold onto him. Grasping a part of the way things used to be. "You should be proud of it."

"I am," he said, slowly intertwining his fingers with hers. Daring to keep that contact. "It's one of the few things I've been able to take pride in since I left." His eyes never left hers. He was being so gentle with her. So kind. This was the best version of Jack, the man she saw in glimpses when he was sober. The man she'd had for a few weeks between rehab and the hospital. Still a little rough around the edges, sure, still unafraid to be blunt and honest. But this was the person she heard in all his songs, who she had hoped would someday find his way back to the world. To her.

* * *

Ally was looking right back at him and in that moment nothing else mattered, nothing else existed beyond the two of them and this room and her hand in his.

The shrill ring of her phone made them both jump, and she pulled her hand from his to answer it.

"Hey. Oh, no everything's okay, why? What? Oh shit. Shit shit shit, I'm so sorry. Stay there I'm coming, just give me like two minutes, okay?" She hung up, sighing.

"Everything alright?" he asked.

"Yeah, I just didn't realize how late it was. Ramon is out back waiting for me and he's afraid if he stays there any longer someone might recognize him. I have to go."

Of course. This couldn't last forever. The clock would strike midnight and the fairy tale would have to come to an end. The two of them going their separate ways. What the fuck did he think was gonna happen? She'd show up here and everything would just be good again? She'd ask him to come back to California with her? What he'd done was terrible. And maybe she was ready to hear him out – to laugh with him and hold his hand – but they weren't going to go riding off into the sunset together.

Ally quickly shrugged out of his borrowed clothing and put her heels back on. Straightening up once more she said, "I'm glad you're doing better, Jack." It was the first time all day she'd said his name and for a split second he forgot how to breathe. God it sounded so good to hear her say it. It had never felt like anything special until he'd first heard it fall from her lips. _Jackson Maine_. And he'd told her that there was no need to say his full name, because everyone who really knew him called him Jack and how he believed she would be someone who knew him – who saw him for who he was. But in all those years nobody had ever made a single syllable sound so beautiful, so special. It was what she called him. It was her name to say. Everything he was belonged to her.

He swallowed everything her voice made him feel and said, "I'll show you out." Moving quickly he snuck her past the dressing room door and out to the back. The door opened out to the darkness of the night, cool desert air washing over them. A black car was in the distance, and once they stepped out the driver flashed the headlights.

"There he is," Ally said. Turning to Jack she said, "Well, um, good night."

That was it. A simple parting message. He forced a smile on his face and said, "Good night, Ally. Take care of yourself." He hoped she knew that what he really meant was, _I love you more than anything in the fucking world and I'm so sorry I wasn't better and if I could do it all over again I would choose you every time. _

Jack stood on the back step watching as she walked towards the headlights. His lip quivered, fighting tears. As he watched her go, every step she took away from him was a sharp pain in his chest, an old wound he couldn't quite close. He'd left her before, and now it had come full circle. It was her turn to leave him and this time there would be no lose ends to tie up, nothing to bring her back to him. This was the goodbye he had never wanted to face. At least he'd gotten to hold her one last time. Make amends. Try to make things right. But goddamn, it hurt so much to know that this was the last time he would –

"Hey," she said, turning to look back at him. A smile at the corner of her mouth he could barely make out in the moonlight.

"Yeah?" he asked, hoping she wouldn't hear the emotion in his voice.

"Are you free tomorrow?"

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**The lyrics Ally finds are a modified version of "Dope" by Lady Gaga.**


	6. Shallow

Jack had hardly been able to fall asleep that night, half-scared that if he did he'd wake up and discover it had all been some fucked-up dream. But sure enough, around noon the next day, Whitney came into his office and said, "Ally's here." The eagerness on his face must have been obvious because she raised her eyebrows and said, "Oh my god, is this a date? You taking her out somewhere nice?"

"You're fuckin' nosy, you know that?" he chuckled.

Whitney laughed. "Just curious." She started out the door, then added, "It's good to see you happy."

Jack pulled on his jacket and grabbed his car keys. He stopped just short of the hall and took a deep breath. It would be okay. They were just catching up, spending time together. He wouldn't let himself hope too hard, pin too much on the small fact that she hadn't walked away last night. To see her again, that was more than enough. Gathering his courage, he closed the office door and stepped out into the bar. There she was, sitting on a barstool in the corner, sipping a glass of water while she laughed at something Mateo was saying. How many times had he pictured that laugh in the last two years?

When she caught sight of him, she stood from the chair, her high heels clacking against the wooden floor. "All good?" he asked.

"Yeah, just getting all the gossip on what it's like to work for you. Hear you're quite the hardass," she teased. Mateo immediately made a face like that of a child being ratted out to his parents by an older sister.

Jack just laughed. "I'm just lucky they put up with my bullshit." He told Mateo to give him a call if anything came up and walked out of the bar with Ally. They climbed into his truck as he fished his keys from his pocket. "So where'd you wanna go?"

"Anywhere," she said. "Everywhere. I feel like my life's been all over the magazines lately but I don't know anything about what you've been doing. So show me around, cowboy." His heart skipped a beat when she called him that. All the little nicknames and terms of endearment they had for each other were words he hadn't heard in such a long time. What did that mean? Could he let himself hope?

"Well if we're gonna be driving around you're gonna need to be a little more incognitio. Don't want anyone taking a photo of you with me that they can send to the fuckin' tabloids." Ally said she'd anticipated that, and pulled a baseball cap and sunglasses out of her purse and put them on, tucking her hair up under the cap. "Perfect." And she looked so perfect sitting there in the passenger seat of his truck, smiling at him. He could let himself pretend this was anything other than temporary.

They drove all over the outskirts of Phoenix. He took her past the art museums, past the many lounges and venues where emerging artists in the city would play, places where he would sometimes visit if he felt confident he wouldn't be recognize. He'd stand in the crowd and watch the bands performing, keeping an eye out for anyone he wanted to invite to play at The Deep End. Sometimes it would take him back to those early days of playing in bars and on the streets, back when music was the only thing he loved and his demons could still be quieted with a song.

He took her north towards the Phoenix Mountains Preserve and past Geordie's Restaurant ("The best goddamn Italian food in the state," he swore; "I'll be the judge of that," she replied) and Coperhaven Castle ("Why there are so many castles in Phoenix is fucking beyond me."). Then down over the Salt River towards the South Mountain Park. Along the way he'd point out all the insignificant places that had become a part of the map of his life. The music store where he bought his piano, the diner where he'd pick up takeout when neither he nor Bobby was up to cooking something real, the rec center he went to on the rare days it was too chilly to swim outside. Ally took it all in, asking him questions, trying to get him to tell her more. He was happy to oblige, happy to do whatever the hell she wanted for as long as she wanted.

They stopped near Mystery Castle, which she desperately wanted to visit, but he knew it would be too risky with tourists around. "It's worth coming back to though," he said. "This whole area, it's where I go when I need to clear my head. No radios or liquor stores or fans. Just mountains and sky." More than once he'd hiked up to the top of Dobbins Lookout, just to get as far away from the rest of the world as possible. Quiet the voices in his head for a little while. "It helped me stay sober early on, just getting lost as hell out there."

"Was it hard?" she asked. "Getting clean on your own?"

It was the fucking hardest thing he'd ever done. Fortunately he'd been in the hospital and then at Hillside for the worst of the withdrawal. And the therapy helped. But the real work he had to do alone. It hadn't been a walk in the park. There had been nightmares, cold sweats, cravings like he'd never known. Craving a drink, craving a high – craving her. He'd gotten into screaming matches with Bobby, even argued with himself, and spent hours in the pool letting the straight black line at the bottom be his therapist until he'd cleared his head enough to return to land. And he'd missed her like hell.

But instead he just said, "Well, I didn't do it all by myself."

* * *

Ally pulled down her sunglasses to stare at the latest spot he'd driven them to. A tiny church on the outskirts of the city, not too far from South Mountain Park. There was a tiny sign board with black marquee letters that reads "I WAS A STRANG R AND YOU WELC MED ME IN" and a sticker in the corner with a blue triangle and the letters _AA._

"This is the place," Jack said

"And you go every week?" she asked.

"I did at first. Every Sunday night, like clockwork. I needed it – needed someone to help hold me accountable. But now I just kinda go when I need it. When it's getting bad."

It was so unassuming. She tried to picture him walking through the white wooden doors every week. "Did people ever bother you? Being famous and all."

Jack chuckled. "Not really. I got a lotta stares, but the whole anonymous thing keeps people pretty quiet. They could tell someone they met Jackson Maine at AA, but then everyone's gonna know they're in AA, y'know?" Everyone had skin in the game.

"And it helped?"

"Yeah. It did. It felt stupid at first, sitting around and talking about feelings and shit, but it actually did help. I didn't feel so alone."

She couldn't imagine Jack pouring his heart out to a bunch of strangers, but then again wasn't that what he did all the time? Just on a stage, or through an album. He was never as vulnerable with them as he was when it was just the two of them, but he shared his heart when he was singing. He let the world into his world. And for a while she'd been a part of that – which made her wonder.

"Did you ever talk about me?" she asked, her gaze still fixed on the sign.

"What, you think you're special or something?" Startled, she turned around to look at him. But his eyes were soft, and when he spoke his voice was tender. "Shit, course I talked about you. How could I not? When I was trying to numb everything else in my life, only two things made me feel anything – music, and you."

The sincerity with which he spoke left her feeling unusually shy, amplified by the fact that she knew it couldn't be any drug talking. This was coming from his soul. He meant every word.

She struggled to find the words to respond, but every possibility died on her lips. Before she could manage to regain her voice he said, "Well, I suppose that concludes the Jackson Maine Grand Tour."

Jack started the truck up again, and she realized that this could be it. He could drive her back to the hotel and she'd get back on the plane with Ramon and fly home and never see him again – and she wasn't ready. In a moment of panic she found use of the English language again and managed, "Wait! Can we get food?" He gave a confused glance at her sudden exclamation and she tried to mask her desperate plea with, "I'm – it's getting late and I'm just really hungry. I forgot to eat lunch. Maybe… maybe we could grab dinner somewhere?"

"Are you crazy?" he asked, and her heart sank. The tenderness with which he'd just spoke had caught her off guard, and with everything he'd said the night before, she thought maybe – "Nowhere 'round here's gonna be private. There'd be twenty phones tweeting about us before we could even get a table."

"Oh," she said, relaxing a bit, "right." Still, she found she just didn't want to leave him yet. "Is there anywhere we can go for a little while though?"

Jack pulled out onto the highway. His hands gripped the steering wheel tight, his eyes never leaving the road. "I could take you back to the house. If you want. I can cook, you know."

"I'd like that."

While he'd been driving them around Phoenix, they'd talked nearly nonstop, but now they sat in a heavy silence. She was afraid that to say anything might break this tentative spell hanging over them. This liminal place where she could pretend everything was casual and normal, where she didn't have to face the conflicting feelings in her heart or admit that the longer she was with him the harder it was to think about saying goodbye. She was seeing the Jack she'd loved – the Jack who was good to her, who was gentle and funny and thoughtful. The anger, the jealousy, the booze – it was all gone.

Jack drove them down a long private road before finally turning into the driveway of a white clay house with a tall fence. It was so different from her house in LA – with all its wood and wide windows, the thick trees that surrounded it. The house they'd once shared. There were only shrubs here, and the windows were small and spread out, affording its occupants privacy.

"It's not much," Jack admitted, leading her in through the garage. "Small upstairs. Pool outback. But it's home."

_Home._ There was a time when that word meant wherever they were together. Now they each had a place of their own, hundreds of miles apart.

Jack scrounged together in the kitchen to find everything he needed for pad thai, a dish she'd ordered from carryout constantly when they were on the road together. While he searched she put on the radio in the kitchen, giving them something to fill the space as they chopped onions and diced peanuts. He soon put her to work stirring the noodles on the stove while he sautéed shrimp and vegetables in the pan next to her, the oil and sauce simmering between them. A myriad of pop songs played as a pleasant aroma filled the kitchen. It all felt so pleasantly domestic.

Then the song on the radio changed and a few familiar guitar chords came through. They both froze. Her stomach twisted. Ally would've recognized that sound anywhere. She'd played it a million times herself. A few seconds later, Jackson's voice followed. _Tell me something girl, are you happy in this modern world?_ The two of them stood there dumbstruck as the song – _their_ song – played over the radio.

Ally closed her eyes. And for a moment she could imagine they were standing on a stage in front of a crowd and he was begging her to come on stage and sing with him. Ramon was by her side and their whole future was ahead of them. They had yet to fight for the first time or make love for the first time. Millions of songs and kisses and jokes to pass between them. No wedding. No divorce. No rehab. She had yet to discover how bad his drinking was or how generous his heart was.

What if she'd said no? What if she hadn't walked up to the microphone with him that night? She could've just let the moment pass. It would have saved her a lot of heartache. But it would've cost her everything she'd ever dreamed of – and everything she never knew she needed.

This was another moment, and if she let it go, what else would be gone? Maybe Jack would switch off the radio and they'd go back to cooking in silence, afraid to acknowledge the weight of the past. The memory of that moment prompted her to reach over and turn it up just a little bit louder, to lift the spoon to her mouth like a mic and try to mimic his deep, rasping voice.

"I'm falling. And in the good times I find myself longing… for change." It was a parody of his voice, much rougher than how he sounded. But it brought the ghost of a smile to his lips. Ally found herself grinning. "And in the bad times, I fear myself." She nudged him with her elbow. "Come on, Arizona boy, show me how it's really done."

Jack opened his mouth to protest, but she thrust the spoon at him. The guitar filled the silence, and it was like history had been rewritten. She was the one standing there, praying for him to sing, to join in in her crazy game. Looking with him with the same reckless hope that he'd once stared her down with. He shook his head, but took the spoon. Her heartbeat quickened when his fingers brushed hers.

"Tell me something boy." Ally took a sharp breath in at the sound of his voice – _his_ voice, not distorted or muffled by a radio or distance. It was far more beautiful than her imitation. Somehow warm and raw and _right_. "Aren't you tired tryin' to fill that void?" To her great relief, he continued on through the verse and into the first chorus. It was such a thrill to hear him sing. She'd nearly forgotten all the things his voice made her feel. And to hear him singing her words, the song that had brought them together – it took her breath away. So much so that she almost wasn't ready when he handed the spoon back to her for the post-chorus.

"In the sha-ha, sha-ha-low." Their voices in harmony. Oh, it was one thing to hear him sing, but to sing with him was an entirely different experience. Matching her voice to his, hitting the notes together, the two of them leaning in over the wooden spoon as if they truly did need it. His face so close to hers, grinning right back as they sang without a care in the world. The low tone of the guitar came through the radio and he nodded at her, as if to egg her on. The rush of the adrenaline, of performing, of him was overwhelming. Feeling inspired, she dashed over to the kitchen table and swiftly climbed on top in time for the bridge, which she belted out as though there were a whole stadium listening, and not just Jack, looking up at her with a bemused smile and wide, awestruck eyes.

Ally put every bit of heart into the words as she sang the last chorus, hoping with all her heart Jack would join in for the post-chorus again. "I'm off the deep end, watch as I dive in, I'll never meet the gro-OH!"

The radio continued on without her as her song turned into a yelp, her heel catching on the edge of the table. Ally lost her balance, and found herself falling in a moment of panic. But rather than crashing through the surface, she crashed into Jack, his arms wrapping around her and catching her just in time. He held her close to him and on instinct she put her arms around his neck, trying to catch her breath. They stared at each other in shock, and she fought the impulse to hold him closer.

But then he said, "What was that about never meeting the ground?" and they both burst out laughing. Once she started she couldn't seem to stop, and they stood there giggling like mad, and she let herself embrace him, burying her head in his chest, feeling the rumble of his own laughter through his shirt. It felt good.

They regained their composure just in time to sing the last line together – "_We're far from the shallow now." _And when she met his eyes the air turned into electricity. It jolted both of them out of this strange reverie and she stepped away from him awkwardly as he smoothed out his shirt.

And yet she didn't want to lose whatever momentum held them in the moment. "Do you ever miss it?" she asked. "Performing?"

Jack stepped back to the stove, spoon in hand, and resumed stirring the noodles. "Not like I thought I would. I miss the music and what it could do for people, but I don't really miss the pressure. And it's strangely nice to be settled down. Maybe I'm just getting old and boring," he considered. "I loved it. But it just wasn't healthy for me anymore. I was relying on the crowd to make me feel good when it's supposed to be the other way 'round."

She understood what he meant. For her, performing had always been a gift. She needed to sing, somewhere, anywhere, but it was performing that made her feel good. Getting to share her music was what brought her joy, and she loved knowing that her songs could mean something to the people listening. _SUPERNOVA_ had been full of pain and deeply personal, but at every tour stop fans were telling her that it helped them through a breakup, through their parents' divorce, through a loss or a struggle. Hearing that warmed her heart, but she knew that if she ever relied upon those moments to be the thing that brought her joy, she would lose sight of why she did this in the first place.

Still, she wasn't at a place where she could give up making music. She would miss it too much. Singing with him in the kitchen had reminded her just how much she missed performing with him. What they had had truly been something special. It was magic when their voices were in song. They brought out the best in each other on stage – and when the drugs weren't involved, they did the same offstage too. Like perfect puzzle pieces, they filled the gaps in each other, made each other more whole than they were alone.

Ally watched as he moved about the kitchen, cutting vegetables and throwing things onto the stovetop, his back to her. Those broad shoulders she once would've followed anywhere. How was it possible to have so many feelings about a single person? When she looked at him, she remembered so much hurt and shame. But she remembered such bliss as well. He was the person who had shown her what it meant to love and to be loved, and to do so with such intensity.

"Well," she said, stepping up to the stove to help him. "I still think you've got one of the best damn voices in the world."

Jack chuckled. "Well then you need to listen to more music."

* * *

When dinner was finished, they sat down at the tiny table she'd nearly tumbled off of to eat. He asked her a million questions about tour, and California, and Ramon. She tried to dodge the question when he asked her how her father was, not wanting to share that Lorenzo would likely shoot him on sight if given the chance. His reaction indicated that he'd assumed as much. They went back and forth, filling each other in on the big and small things that had happened in their time apart, laughing at old memories and tales of old friends between bites of pad thai. Which she had to admit, it was quite good. Jack had never been bad at cooking, exactly, but this was delicious.

"Really, it was amazing," she insisted as he scrubbed the dishes. "When did you get so good at cooking?"

"Before The Deep End opened, I had a lot of downtime and I needed to fill the void with anything that wasn't booze. So I built things, swam, learned how to properly cook. You can learn just about anything on the internet these days. And it didn't hurt that good food helped with the whole making amends shit too."

"Making amends?" she asked.

"The ninth step in AA. _Make amends to all person we have harmed wherever possible except when to do so would injure them further._ I had a lot of people to make amends with and sometimes it felt so goddamned awkward, so I'd turn up with some food to try and help with the apology. Show that I meant no harm."

"Was it hard making all those amends?"

"Fucking exhausting," he said. "But I knew I needed to do it. People like Noodles, Phil, Bobby, my band… you're the only one on my list I never made amends with."

"Me? Why?"

Jack shrugged, moving the dishes to the drying rack. "I figured it would cause you more hurt to hear from me than to not. So I stayed away." He glanced at her. "But – I mean, if you… I wrote them down. If you want to hear them. If you wouldn't mind. It's not like I'm asking just to check it off a list. I just – well, I do want you to know that I'm sorry."

A part of her was hesitant, but she could tell this meant a lot to him. "Okay," she agreed. Jack asked her to wait there, and darted off, returning a minute later to the kitchen with a piece of paper in his hand.

"Probably got it memorized by now, but I don't wanna forget anything," he said. He opened up the paper, started to read and then froze. "Actually, uh – would you mind turning around? I'm afraid I'll lose my nerve if I can see you. I'm a fucking coward."

"No you're not," she said. It felt incredibly brave to be honest about your mistakes. But she obliged, turning and studying the abstract painting on the wall in the living room.

"Dear Ally," he began. "The only place I can begin is with 'I'm sorry.' I want to truly apologize for how much I've hurt you. It was the last thing I ever wanted to do, but I know I've done it far too much. I'm sorry for every fight. I'm sorry for every argument. I'm sorry for every moment I embarrassed you. I wish I could take it all back – the Grammys, the cake, the insults. All the shows I missed and all the times I turned up wasted. I wish I could have given you better, given you the life and the love you deserve. Because of my drinking, I wasn't a good husband. I wasn't a good man or a good partner. I wasn't anything close to the man I wanted to be for you. The man you made me want to be. If I could go back to the night I tried to… the night I tried to take my life, I would do everything differently. I wouldn't scare you or make you cry. I would go to the show with you and celebrate you like the star you are. I would be better.

"But I can't go back. I can't change the past. I can only try to make amends. There's so much I could say, but I want to tell you more than anything that I want to amend the letter I sent you. I lied to you Ally, and for that I'm sorry. Those words weren't true. I had to hurt you so you would let me go. These are the words I should have said: Dear Ally, I should be here in person to tell you all of this. I just can't wait any longer to say it. I can't keep pretending that there is anything in the world more important to me than you. You said that things got bad when we were together – the truth is things had been bad for a long time. You gave me the first moments of good I'd had in years, and none of the bad was your fault. Things got bad when my music didn't go where I wanted, when I thought I wasn't good enough. Things got bad when I hurt you and then I felt bad about it, because I wanted to be good enough for you. Everything was better when we were together. You made me fall in love with being alive again – and though I was using, I hope you know that being in love with you was better than damn drug I ever touched.

"I could never mistake that for a high. You filled the empty spaces of my heart. You showed me what love is. You made me believe that I could have a purpose other than playing music. I found that purpose in you. Nothing would have made me happier than to spend all my days loving you. Making you smile. Because when I look at you, I feel happier than I have ever felt. I look at you and I know I'm home. I never thought I could be deserving of that kind of love until I met you. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. And I'm trying to make things right by letting you go, but things only ever feel right when we're together."

His voice was starting to shake now, and fought to keep his tone even. "I'm sorry for every time I hurt you. I'm sorry for every time I made you cry. You were the love of my life. And I'm truly sorry for not telling you that enough when I had you in my life. Yours always, Jackson." Ally spun around to face him. He was clutching the piece of paper like a drowning man grasping a straw. To anyone else, his face might have been unreadable, as he tried not to show any emotion, but she knew him too well. It was clear he was trying not to waver or to cry, and she longed to reach out to him.

Jack cleared his throat, shoving the paper into his back pocket. "I'm not asking you for forgiveness or nothin'. I just... I want you to stop blaming yourself for this. 'Cause you never did anything wrong, okay? Never. Never."

There was such pain in his voice that she just couldn't stand the distance between them any longer. Ally threw her arms around him, hugging him tight. His hands slowly found their way to her waist, enveloping her in an embrace. This time she felt no rush to pull away. There were no tears. Just a desire to touch him, to remind herself that all of this was real. There was such safety in his arms. After all this time, he still felt like home. Like everything she'd ever lost come back to her. The smell of smoke and his cologne. The scent of stale liquor noticeably absent. He ran a hand up and down her back, the feeling so calming and familiar. It felt so good to be close to him.

"Thank you," she said, not moving away. "I understand. I still wish you hadn't run away like that, but I understand what you were trying to do." As long as she was touching him it felt like anything could be said between them, and all of the hurts could be healed. That if she just kept him close things could go back to the way they were, when he was hers and that was enough.

"I'm so sorry, Ally."

"I know," she murmured. "I know. It's okay. I forgive you. I'm not mad at you." He'd told her he wasn't asking for her forgiveness but she wanted him to have it. She wanted him to know she didn't hold it against him. She never was good at staying angry with him. He loved her too good for that.

Ally could've stayed in his arms forever, but finally he stepped away. "So, uh, how long were you plannin' on staying in Phoenix?" he asked, shifting his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably.

Right – this wasn't for forever. Her time with him had an expiration date. Whatever sensation of possibility she had suddenly fizzled. "Um, I think we're supposed to leave tomorrow," she said. "I have another show coming up and someone's gotta take of Charlie, so…"

"Charlie?" His eyes lit up. "You still got him?"

She laughed. "Of course I do. I could never part with my little guy." Though Charlie wasn't a little puppy anymore.

"How's he doing?"

"He's good. Although – anytime a truck comes by the house, he runs to the door all excited. I think he still misses you. Still keeps thinking that maybe you're coming home." He'd told her once that the LA house had never really felt like home until she got there, and if she was being honest with herself, it hadn't really felt that way since he'd left either.

Jack offered a bittersweet smile. "I miss him too."

Her phone buzzed, an unwelcome intrusion into this world of make-believe domesticity.  
R: _Heyyy really sorry but I've had a few too many drinks at the hotel bar and I don't think I can come pick u up rn :/  
_She furiously typed back. _A: Wtf, how am I supposed to get back?_  
_R: I trust u girl! If I don't see u here in the morning I'll call u and we can figure it out. XOXO plz don't hate me!_

"Shit," she said. "It appears my designated driver is too drunk to come get me."

Jack laughed. "It is getting pretty late. Want me to drive you back?"

"No, you can't do that – I already ran into paparazzi there this morning, I'm sure they're waiting for me to come back and they'd just love to get a picture of that. And I can't trust a rideshare or a taxi driver to be discreet."

"Well uh, you could always just stay here tonight," he offered.

It did make sense – she could lay low tonight at the house and Ramon could pick her up in time to get to the airport in the morning. A part of her wondered if this was his plan all along. Ramon always had been the one pushing her to say yes to her heart, even when she didn't want to admit it. "I wouldn't want to be any trouble," she said.

Jack waved the thought away with his hand. "You're never trouble. Besides, Bobby's out of town so it's not like we're short on space. Not that he'd mind of course, I'm pretty sure he likes you more than he likes me." He dismissed any further protests that she'd be imposing and insisted that he was delighted at the prospect of sleeping on the living room sofa so that she could take his bed. He led her to his room and wished her a hasty goodnight, urging her to get rest before tomorrow's flight.

Ally stood in the room alone with all the things still left unsaid floating through her mind. She could've kissed him there in the kitchen when they were laughing. Or when he read her that letter. Each time he told her he still loved her, she could've said it back. It would've been so easy. But maybe she was just kidding herself. It could never be that easy. Her father would call her crazy. He would never forgive Jack for what had happened. And the press? God, it would be a fucking feeding frenzy. How could anyone respect her if she went back to the man who had so publicly broken her heart? She was supposed to be stronger now, smarter. She was supposed to be angry at him for everything he'd put her through. Not go running back to him.

But he hadn't wanted to hurt her. And what he said yesterday was the truth – she never would've been able to leave him on her own. The divorce gave her the fire she needed to make it as a star on her own. To stop attaching her work and her decisions to him. It was for the best, wasn't it?

In the light of a desk lamp, Ally looked around the room. It was sparse – black silk sheets, a closet full of button down shirts and jackets, a guitar in the corner, a dresser with a record player and a stack of albums. Curious, she flipped through them. One of Noodles' first albums, Jim Morrison, Pearl Jam, Willie Nelson, Creedence Clearwater Revival, and both of her albums on vinyl. How often did he listen to her sing?

Before she could ruminate on the thought, something else caught her eye. A little piece of paper on the corner of the dresser, weighed down by a ring on a chain necklace. Upon closer inspection, she realized it was his wedding band. The sheet of paper looked like a list of names, with a hospital's letterhead at the top. At the bottom though was a scribbled note. _I love you more than anything! Your Ally._

The sight of it nearly stopped her heart. She'd forgotten about that note, handwritten to him in the middle of the night before Bobby drove her home. After all this time he'd kept it. Something so small. Ally ran her fingers over the ink. He really did love her, didn't he? This was only going to make it harder to leave tomorrow.

Stripping off her bra and jeans, she turned off the lamp and climbed into his bed in just a t-shirt. Ally pulled the covers up, snuggling beneath them in the hopes of finding some sort of comfort for her aching heart. But the blankets smelled just like him. No matter how she tossed and turned, she just couldn't fall asleep. There was something so disorienting about lying in a bed that smelled like Jack without him there beside her. She wanted him there beside her. She wanted his arms around her and his deep voice to whisper sweet things in her ear, and those strong leather-worn hands to hold when she inevitably began to cry because she missed him more than she even knew how to say.

She was living out her dream. Two albums, two world tours, five Grammys in a single night. Arenas sold out all over the world. Famous friends and fancy parties and a house in Hollywood hills. But the dream just wasn't the same without him.

She sat up. Fuck what she was supposed to feel. Fuck what made sense. Fuck what anyone would say. None of that mattered. Not anymore. She wasn't making this decision for him. She was her own person now with a career she'd built all by herself. She could survive without Jackson Maine, she knew that now. But she still wanted him in her life. They still knew how to bring out the best in each other.

Some things just didn't make sense. Some things were just meant to be. And when she looked at him she just knew it was right. She wanted him. It was always going to be him. And she just couldn't wait any longer.

Ally crept down the hall quietly. From the doorway to the living room she could see him lying on the couch, his chest moving up and down in a steady rhythm. Her heart ached to be even this far from him. She took a step forward and the floorboard creaked beneath her. Jack sat up, turning in her direction. Their eyes locked and for a moment she forgot to breathe. Neither said a word. They just held each other's gaze in the dark, both of them wavering on the edge of some great unspeakable feeling. Finally she gathered the will to cross those last few feet and stand before him on the couch. He stared up at her, unblinking, as she took his hand in hers. Like gravity she found herself pulled towards him. Unable to resist. She sat in his lap, straddling his hips with her knees. He inhaled sharply but made no move to pull away. She placed both of her hands on his face gently stroking his cheeks, his beard coarse beneath her fingertips. Her was thundering so loud in her ears but she could still hear the ragged harmony of their breath, every inhale and exhale stealing the same oxygen, the air between them so warm. His arms remained stiff at his sides but she could tell from the way he clenched his jaw he was desperate to touch her. He was simply waiting for permission.

This was it. She was standing on the cliff face, looking down, and if she jumped now there would be no going back. There was still time – she could stand up, walk away, go back to the bedroom and they'd never speak of this again. But when she looked into his eyes, she saw the man who had made her feel like a star long before any crowd was screaming her name. The man who had looked at her in a bar like she was a miracle that had fallen right into his lap. Those eyes, so bright and blue, like the endless Arizona sky above them. Infinite possibilities within them, infinite depth. And he was looking at her with all of the love in the world.

Going back had never really been an option, not for them.

She dove in, trusting him to catch her.

Ally pressed her lips to his, and he kissed her back. Hesitant, shallow at first, before he responded in a way that matched her fervor. He finally allowed himself to touch her, his hands resting low on her back, tugging her closer against him. His lips were softer than they'd been so many times she'd kissed him before – a small reminder that he was finally able to take care of himself. No trace of whiskey on his breath as he swiped his tongue over her bottom lip. Just Jack. Her Jack, holding her so tight, placing open mouth kisses down her neck as she tangled her fingers in his hair. Oh god, she'd forgotten how wonderful his touch was. Imagination simply didn't compare. She melted under his fingertips, his lips, his every movement.

She pulled his shirt up over his head and leaned back to take him in, his tan skin and silver pendant he never took off. She ran a hand over the skin of his chest and down his stomach, pressed her lips to his forehead, his cheeks, his jaw. As if she couldn't get enough of him. She ached to touch him everywhere, to feel him everywhere. She shrugged out of her own shirt and placed his palm against her heart. Surely his own pulse matched the rapid tempo. In response he leaned in, kissing the curve of her breasts, his mouth circling her nipple, eliciting a moan from her. In the holy cover of darkness, past and future all ceased to exist. There was only now, only this moment with mouths and lips and tongues and fingertips and every sensation she'd dreamt of a million times since he left. With shaking hands she tried to make quick work of his pants, but he stopped her.

"You sure?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"More than anything," she replied, silencing any doubts he might have with another kiss.

Seconds later she lay back against the sofa, no layers left between them. He hovered over her, eyes roaming over her body. With a gentle hand he brushed a loose strand of her away from her face, his touch traveling down her cheek. "I missed you," he murmured. And then his lips were on her neck, her belly, her thighs. And then was the end of all the missing. No more distance. No more longing.

They were together again, exploring the maps of each others bodies once more, with more care than they ever had before, as if it were the first and last time they would ever touch. As if nothing in the history of the universe had ever mattered more than this moment on this couch, and maybe nothing ever had. Not for them.

There was no sweeter melody than the sound of their breath, their bodies, this sweet and unexpected symphony. Every part of him telling her he loved her. Her body able to say the words she'd been too afraid to speak out loud all along – that she loved him too.


	7. Maybe It's Time

He was half-awake, between the realm of dreams and reality, when he became aware of the sound of breathing. Warm skin against his. And the sweet smell of her. Was it just his mind playing tricks on him again? How many times had he had this same vision? But when he blinked awake, there she was. Asleep in his arms, her head facing away from him, her brown hair spread over his pillow. Ally was in his bed. Ally, his Ally, come back to him by some miracle he wasn't worthy of.

Jack blinked away tears that came to his eyes involuntarily. This was what he'd dreamed of for two years. Every day he'd missed her, craved her, loved her. Every day he had tried to repent for the sins of hurting someone so good, so perfect. Wished he could have just one chance to tell her that she'd never done anything wrong. He had prayed for a chance to apologize, but he'd never dared to dream she would forgive him. That she would somehow, against all odds, still love him.

He brushed a hand over her bare shoulder and she stirred beneath his fingertips. Ally turned to look at him with a dreamy, dazed expression that mirrored his own. "Morning," she murmured, snuggling close to him. All that distance and now she was close enough to hold tight. It felt so right to trail his hand down her spine, kiss her forehead tenderly. As if nothing had changed.

And yet so much had. The buzzing of her phone was proof of that. The real world, cutting in yet again. But she stayed there in his arms until it stopped. And then it began again.

"You should get that," he said. "Might be important." Ally sighed and pulled away to snatch it from the table. Once, they would've both been fighting for time between calls from managers and bandmates and collaborators. People desperate to keep them on schedule. Now, she was the only one with a timetable to adhere to. The only people who called him were Bobby and his sponsor – and Mateo, but only if there was an emergency.

"Ramon's gonna be here in a half hour. We have a plane to catch," she told him.

"Nothing gold can stay," Jack said, shrugging. "C'mon, I'll make you something to eat. I'm fuckin' starving." As much as he wanted to beg her not to go, he needed to play it cool. Feel this out and wait to see what she wanted. This was her decision to make.

It didn't take long to get eggs and French toast on the table. Ally was scribbling away in a notebook by the time he did so. He didn't have to ask what it was. "What's it sound like?" he asked, sitting down across from her.

She looked up at him, smiling. "You know me too well." He sure hoped so. Her eyes trailed down for a moment as she ran a finger over the page. Deciding how much of it she was ready to share. "I guess it's sort of like… da da dadada da dah. Sort of something – something, something about this place."

"I like it already." Talking about music let them avoid talking about what happened next. Ally went to gather her things from the bedroom while he rinsed off the dishes. This was it. The inevitable goodbye he'd been putting off as long as possible. Whatever she chose, it was enough to know she loved him. That was all needed in this life.

As he dried his hands, a pair of arms found their way around his waist. Her embrace caught him by surprise and for a second he froze. "Come with me," she murmured, her cheek pressed against his back.

It took every last drop of self-restraint he had to say, "I don't think that's a good idea."

Clearly that hadn't been the answer she was expecting. She released him from her embrace, and he turned around to face her. "Why not? Now that I've found you, I don't want to lose you again," Ally said. He stepped closer to her and ran his hands through her long hair, trying to soothe the worried look on her face.

"I'm not goin' anywhere. Don't worry. But I think we might need to take things slow. I'm just thinking about the press and shit. Can't have you getting hounded for taking me back."

She sighed. "I wish it didn't matter." And so did he. If the world didn't have to bear witness to their love story, he would follow her to the ends of the fucking earth without hesitation. But her career was subject to public approval and he had no intention of sabotaging it again. "So what do we do then? Pretend like none of this happened?"

"Just for a little while. Make it look like we took our time making up." It was all a game with the press. They just needed to remain in control of the narrative.

"I go back to California. You stay here. We keep things under wraps for now?"

"For now," he agreed. Seeing her frown he added, "But it won't be forever. We've made it this far. What's a little more time?"

"After that?" she asked. "What happens?"

Jack shrugged. "I'll follow your lead. Wherever you want to go."

"That might mean on tour," she ventured.

"That's fine."

"I thought you liked being settled?"

"Fuck it, Ally, I'd live in a van if it meant I was with you." He cupped her cheek with one hand, her skin so soft beneath his palm. "My home is wherever you are."

* * *

When she'd gotten in the car with Ramon after that first night, he'd taken one look at her and shouted. "Oh my god!I knew it! I knew this would happen!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" she'd asked.

Ramon had simply laughed. "You and Jack. Don't try to deny it, I can see it in your smile. And may I just say, it's about damn time you got laid?"

A month had passed since then and she and Jack had been calling each other whenever they had a moment to themselves. In some ways she felt lonelier than before though – knowing that he loved her still, but not being able to love him in person. Ally missed him like mad. So when Matthew McConaughey sent out invitations for a dinner party to benefit the Phoenix Children's Hospital, she seized the opportunity. Matthew was a friend of Jack's, and as The Deep End had been a huge hit in the city, he hoped that Jack would be willing to perform something to help draw donations.

After a long three-way call with Jack and Ramon, it was decided that Ally would attend. She would pretend she had no idea he'd be there and act perfectly surprised to run into him. It would be the moment they needed to begin reconnecting publicly.

And so she found herself in a party dress in a room full of famous faces, making small talk about the heat. In the middle of a conversation with the host himself, a deep voice from behind her called out, "Matthew!"

Her heat leapt and she had to try to force the smile she felt back into a frown. The hushed crowd around them parted and she turned to see Jack. He was cleaned up, in a black-button down and tan pants. He met her eyes. "Oh. Sorry. Didn't, uh, didn't mean to interrupt." Ally stared down at the floor, trying her best not to look at him.

Matthew stepped in to ease the imagined tension. "It's alright, man. Tell you what, I was just meaning to come find you." He put an arm around Jack and led him towards the kitchen of the rented mansion this party of stars had congregated in.

As though they felt a collective need to shield her from this reminder of her past, the actors and singers around her quickly flocked to her to bombard her with random questions about the album and the upcoming tour plans. Any onlooker would've mistaken her immediate ease as a sign of relief that Jack had gone. Only she knew that smile overtaking her was a result of the happiness she felt upon seeing him, if only for a moment.

A small program had been put together to encourage donations for the cause, with a few singers and a handful of standup comedians performing to get people engaged. Ally stood in the crowd and watched, laughing as she sipped whiskey alongside Kacey Musgraves and Woody Harrelson.

A single text came through to her phone. Just follow my lead.

Jack was stepping onto the tiny stage, guitar in hand. She chuckled to herself at the sensation of déjà vu. All you gotta do is trust me.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I have a very special gift for you tonight," Matthew announced. "This next guest has been staying out of the spotlight for a while, but he agreed to come out tonight to support the Children's Hospital with his music, and I do so hope you'll do the same with your wallets. Without further ado, I give you my good friend, Mr. Jackson Maine!"

There was a wave of applause, but Jack held up his hand to quiet it. "Thank you. I've just got one song for you tonight so I won't take up too much of your time, but I do appreciate it. And I hope as you listen that you know it's never too late to change."

The guitar chords began softly, and Ally let herself lean into the comforting sounds of the familiar tune. "Maybe it's time to let the old ways die. Maybe it's time to let the old ways die."

The people around her hummed and sang along, the crowd swaying to the music. Following their divorce Jack had gained quite a notoriety, but there was something about him that made him hard to hate. He was so earnest, so real. When he performed he just gave and gave. His music had been the soundtrack to so many moments in the lives of those present – weddings, graduations, funerals, road trips, parties.

"I'm glad I can't go back to where I came from, I'm glad those days are gone and gone for good." He would glance out over the crowd from time to time and when he met her eyes finally she quickly averted her gaze until he was no longer looking at her. Follow his lead. Play the part expected of her.

But then the last verse came. "Maybe it's time to let the old ways die, maybe it's time to let the old ways die. It takes a lot to change your plans, but it was you who changed my mind. Maybe it's time to let the old ways die." The change in the lyrics caught her attention and when she glanced up at him he was looking straight at her. They held eye contact as he leaned in close and sang, "Oh, maybe it's time to let the old ways die."

It was for her. He was singing for her, he'd changed the words for her. She wanted to cry but she needed to put on a show still. She pretended to gasp, to struggle for breath as the crowd around her cheered. She turned on her heel and left the room, seeking out a restroom to hide in and compose herself. Jack texted her that he was headed out and invited her to meet him at his place.

A knock came on the door a few moments later, a friend letting her know that it was safe to come out. Jack was gone. She socialized a little while longer, added her donation to the Hospital with everyone else, and then excused herself saying she was tired. Anyone there would assume she was startled by the interaction with Jack and simply going home.

And she was – going home to him.

The moment she stepped inside the house he pulled her into his arms, in a hug so tight. From the moment she'd seen him she had ached to touch him and it was clear the struggle to stay apart had been just as difficult for Jack.

"Goddamn, you were fucking flawless at that," he laughed. "You shoulda been an actress instead."

"I was just following your lead," she said. Ally leaned back to get a good look at him, to let herself take him in in ways she hadn't allowed herself to at the party. Those blue eyes. That smile. She could let herself feel happy at the sight of him now without worrying that prying eyes might catch sight of her joy. "So I changed your mind, huh?"

"You know damn well you did." He kissed her forehead. "Changed my whole damn life."

In some ways it felt like the old ways weren't dying at all – they were together again, laughing and making music. But so much was new. The fighting was gone. The fear and the booze and the tiptoeing around each other's trauma. This was healthier. This was lighter. This was who they were meant to be. Giggling in the kitchen over cups of coffee. Her arms thrown around his neck as he carried her into the bedroom. His lips so soft on her skin. The smell of sweat and leather on his shirt and not stale booze. If the old ways were dying, they were giving way to something better. Something right.

As they lay together hand in hand for the first time in so long, she turned to smile at him. "So we tell them that this is how we met again," she said.

"It's how we reconnected," he agreed. "Completely by chance."

"By a very happy accident." She traced her fingertips over the smudge of lipstick she'd left on his cheek. "Sweet serendipity." And then, "It was nice to hear you sing again. Were you nervous performing in front of everybody?"

Jack shook his head. "I wasn't performing for everybody. I was just singing for you."

* * *

He could hear his phone ringing. How could he have forgotten it in the living room? Jack dashed out of his room but stopped short when he saw Bobby pick it up to answer the Facetime call. Shit. Shit shit shit.

"Ally?" his voice was incredulous. Bobby looked from the phone to Jack and back again. "Are you calling the right number?"

"Um…" came her voice from the other end. Jack was frozen as Bobby stared him down. "Yes? Is… is Jack there?"

Sheepishly, he crept over behind Bobby to wave at Ally through the screen. "Yup. Right here." Though thoroughly wishing he could sink into the fucking floor.

"You haven't told him yet?" she asked. She wasn't angry, just surprised.

"Told me?" Bobby repeated.

"Well, I knew we wanted to keep this quiet and he's been away so much and… honestly it kinda felt like I might jinx it if I said out loud."

"What exactly haven't you told me?" Bobby asked.

Jack sighed. The conversation was bound to happen at some point. It might as well be now. "Well, Ally and I… we uh, we talked a while back. She came to visit actually. And we talked about a lot things. Made amends. I told her everything, the whole fucking truth. And we decided to give this thing another shot."

"Whose idea was it?"

"Mine," Ally piped up. "I mean I guess technically Jack told me he still loved me first. But I still loved him and after I learned the truth – I couldn't imagine walking away from that love again."

"It's been almost five months," Jack added. "And it's good. We're good. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. But you've been so busy and I just didn't want you to worry about it. I promise I'm doing things right this time so please don't be mad at me f-"

Bobby dropped the phone and hugged Jack around his neck. "I'm not mad," he said, and Jack swore he could hear his brother's voice break just a bit. "I'm fucking proud of you."

* * *

He comes back to California. Charlie is thrilled. She asks him to move in with him

He snuck his way to California at her request soon after. He had to admit, it was strange to be pulling up to that house once again. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine no time had passed, nothing had ever changed, and he was just coming home at the end of a long day.

And it did feel like coming home. Especially when she came to the door, her brown hair bouncing in a messy ponytail, and kissed him immediately. Her lips tasted like clementines. "Welcome back to California," she said.

"It's good to be back," he said. "It's been a while." He stepped inside to drop his bag and Ally's eyes lit up.

"Wait. Wait stay right there." She turned to the hall and called, "Charlie! C'mere baby!" Seconds later a curly-haired dog, bigger than Jack remembered, came bounding down the hall. He froze in his tracks and stared at Jack.

"Hey buddy," he said, hoping his voice was gentle and inviting. "You remember me?" At the sound of his voice, Charlie bolted towards him, and Jack kneeled down to meet him. But Charlie was also stronger than he remembered, and he sent the two of them tumbling to the floor as he covered Jack's face in sloppy kisses.

"I'll take that as a yes," Jack laughed as Ally tried to pull him off. Finally he was able to sit up, and wrapped his arms around Charlie, hugging him tight. "I missed you too, boy. I missed you too."

He unpacked his things and they brought Charlie out to the yard with them. Hours passed easily playing fetch and running around together. He tested out the zipline to find it still worked. Ally made virgin pina coladas and they sat outside watching the sun sink a little lower in the sky and catching up on everything that had happened while they'd been apart. Bobby's work, the next leg of her tour, the bands that pass in and out of his bar. She asked him to find a good group to open for her when she plays in Phoenix next month and he was happy to oblige. They had decided by that time it would be safe to start appearing near each other in public spaces. To talk with her now of the future, to make plans for meetings that didn't have to be clandestine, was a strange and delightful sensation. She wasn't just a dream anymore.

When the air grew a little chilly, they headed back in, passing the old grand piano he'd left behind.

"You kept this?" he asked, running a hand over the glossy lid.

"I couldn't bear to get rid of it," she admitted, shrugging. They were both so damn sentimental.

Jack stared at the keyboard, remembering all the days and nights they'd passed making music together. How he'd loved the sound of her voice and the way she arranged so many possibilities between the twelve notes provided. It had been far too long since he'd been graced by the sound of songs in person. "Will you play me that song you've been working on?" he asked her.

Ally blushed. "Oh, I don't know if it's ready yet, I'm still messing around with it."

"Please? I just wanna hear it." He tried to give her a puppy-dog eyed look that would put Charlie to shame.

She sighed, but couldn't help but smile. She couldn't say no to him, not when it came to music. Ally took a seat at the piano. Brushed her fingers lovingly over the keys as she gazed at him. "Okay. This one's for you." Clearing her throat, she closed her eyes. "It's been a long time since I came around. Been a long time but I'm back in town. And this time I'm not leaving without you." He watched, nodding along to the chords, as she fell deeper into the song. Ally often closed her eyes when she sang, but this time she didn't break eye contact. Those green eyes looking right through him. It made him shiver. "Something, something about this place. Something about lonely nights, and my lipstick on your face. Something, something about my Arizona guy. Yeah something about, baby you and I."

As she sang, he found himself struck by so many little moments they had shared that found their way into the song. This was about him, about them. She had written a song for him. Jack still remembered the very first time she'd done that, as they sat in a grocery store parking lot with a bag of frozen peas over her hand. Even in that state of intoxication, it had moved him. It wasn't everyday someone wrote a song for you, especially one that was so beautiful and saw straight through the walls you worked so hard to put up. Ally had always seen him in ways nobody else ever had.

How had could he have ever let himself ruin something like that?

"What do you think?" she asked.

"I think you don't need my approval," Jack answered. "But for what it's worth, I think it's fuckin' incredible."

"Yeah?"

"Everything you do is fuckin' incredible," he repeated. "Everything."

"Well, I won't argue on that point," she teased. Ally stood from the piano and walked over to him, hugging him around the waist. "But everything is better with you here." She was silent for a moment then said, "What if… what if you stayed? Here?"

"In California?"

"Here. With me."

Once upon a time he had been able to make choices without thinking about anybody else. So long as he showed up to perform on stage on time, he could go where he wanted with who he wanted and without so much as a fuck to give. But now he had responsibilities. He'd had responsibilities to Ally before, of course, back before he knew how to handle them.

"I'd have to figure some things out," he answered in a measured tone. "I mean there's the house, and the bar, and Bobby… a lot of things I take care down there."

"Oh. I understand."

"I'm not finished," he assured her. "And I'm not saying no. I want to be with you more than anything. There's just some shit I have to sort out first."

Ally leaned back and looked at him, searching his face. "Hmm. The Jack I knew was much more impulsive than that," she observed.

In a moment of insecurity he asked, "Did you like that Jack better?"

Ally didn't miss a beat. "I love every version of you. I love you are and who you were and who you're gonna be. But I do think you seem happier now. And I like you happy."

She stood on her toes to kiss him. She was happier too, he could see it. In their time apart, he'd found his sobriety and she'd found her confidence. When she asked what he thought about a song, she was genuinely curious, not desperately seeking affirmation. She asked him to come back not because she needed him but because she wanted him around. He could tell by her smile, they way she danced around the house without caring and didn't worry about putting on makeup that she was comfortable in her own skin again. They had needed to grow, apart. But it was finally time for them to grow back together.

* * *

** allyofficial: **Something about my Arizona guy [picture attached]  
**64K retweets | 278K favorites**

-REPLIES-  
** hollywoodgossip: **TEA ALERT!  
** lizlime: **WAIT WHAT**  
btsstan99: **#JALLY IS BACK TOGETHER? THIS IS NOT A DRILL!**  
mainmainefan: **hi uh I would like answers asap **  
dwizenherr: **ok so u went back to the guy who dumped u? smh thought u were a role model **  
drgreys: **my cause of death: this tweet!  
** beverlyhillstrll: **lol so this whole divorce was a fuckin publicity stunt huh**  
garlanderxx: **Is this real?  
** mikachu: **omg I cannot even  
** lizzostinypurse: beverlyhillstrll** stfu you don't know their lives**  
asibloverr: beverlyhillstrll** people can change okay?  
** ally_fan_acct: **sooooo does this mean we get a new album or  
** healmeplzally: **I can finally believe in true love again!

** instant-ramon: **Haters gonna hate, but at the end of the day love wins!  
**10K retweets | 152K favorites **

-REPLIES-  
** phillipsky: **he doesn't deserve her!  
** lilliannalopez: phillipsky** uh did u even read the tweet  
** allyobsessed: **name a more iconic friendship U CAN'T  
** normalrockwell:** I mean if we have Ramon's blessing I guess it's good  
** stupluv: **you mean to tell me that RAMON BEEN KNEW THIS WHOLE TIME AND DIDN'T TELL US  
** hollywoodgossip: **DM us with details pretty please?  
** sfmsbbgirl: **ugh ** hollywoodgossip **get outta here and leave ** allyofficial **in peace  
** moonmoon18:** okay wait but WHAT DOES THIS MEAN


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